Part Time Superhero, Full Time Nerd
by nayahasmyheart
Summary: Nerd/Dork/Superhero!Santana and Popular!Brittany. No matter how much Brittany S. Pierce tormented her, Santana Lopez's undying and secret love for Brittany was never diminished. Being the school's top nerd, she knew that there was no way she would ever get a girl like Brittany to love her. That is, until a very unusual power developed in her and her life was turned upside down.
1. Varied Bunting

**A/N: I've been a bit obsessed lately with the ideas of Nerd!Santana and Superhero!Santana, so I combined them into one and decided to write her myself. Enjoy the fic!**

**Also, the awesome cover art was drawn by kapaowie - thank you! :)**

* * *

Santana Lopez took pride in many of her traits. Santana Lopez was intelligent—her grade point average was a whole .01 above Rachel Berry's, who was considered to be the brightest girl in school. Santana Lopez was likable—she only received _one_ slushy facial a day, whereas Artie Abrams received _two_ slushy facials a day. Santana Lopez was interesting—if you liked to talk about liquid chemical compounds and the effects of boiling them. But, above all, Santana Lopez was popular—she had two and a half friends; half being Quinn Fabray, who would only acknowledge her existence when there was nobody else around. Santana Lopez was not, by any means, a _nerd_.

Or so she liked to tell herself.

Sure, her best friend was her Superwoman action figure, followed closely by her stuffed Batman plush. Sure, she memorized the Fundamental Theorem of Calculus in its entirety for her own personal enjoyment. Sure, she also happened to know every element in the periodic table of elements, as well as their symbols and their atomic numbers (she was still working on memorizing the relative atomic masses of the lanthanide and actinide metals—she always confused cerium with curium). Sure, her bookshelves were lined with everything from Marvel comic books to the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series to giant nonfiction novels about the history of the Roman Empire. Santana Lopez was a lot of things, but a _nerd_ was not one of them.

Santana Lopez had a great fashion sense; she always made sure to match her sweaters with her button-down dress shirts, as well as with the shades of beige of her khakis. Her thick, black-rimmed glasses only added to the originality of her outfits (some people liked to tease her that she was copying Artie's style of clothing—little did they know that it was her style long before it was his, and that it was _he_ who was copying _her_). Her attire, which some people would consider _nerdy_, was simply making a statement on today's more-than-inappropriate fashion.

Santana Lopez was not a nerd.

She was not a nerd because Brittany S. Pierce hated nerds, and she could never allow herself to be anything that Brittany S. Pierce hated. Brittany S. Pierce was a cheerleader, and the most popular girl in school. She had golden hair and sky-blue eyes and a heart-stopping smile and a wicked tongue. She was the most beautiful girl that Santana had ever known, and, she suspected, will ever know. You see, Santana was a lesbian, although it would take two limited edition Spock action figures and a couple hundred dollars for her to admit it. Santana was a lesbian, and she had a big, fat crush on Brittany S. Pierce. Brittany S. Pierce, who's only ever shown that she knew that Santana existed when she tossed slushies in her face and walked away, laughing shamelessly.

No matter how much Brittany loathed her, Santana has always, and will always love Brittany. That attraction, that later developed into merciless, heart-wrecking love, has been there since she and Brittany were in the same class in first grade. Brittany—popular, athletic, beautiful Brittany—never noticed Santana for long enough to appreciate the beauty of her personality.

You may think that this is a tragic story with a tragic ending. Santana certainly thought so. What she didn't know is what she really was. A superhero. And superheroes always got the girl, now, didn't they?

* * *

Santana surveyed her closet, a contemplative finger between her teeth. She was facing a great dilemma—should she wear her red and blue sweater with a white dress shirt or with a beige dress shirt? She sighed and rolled her eyes at the fact that this was even a dilemma. Why did everything have to be about fashion nowadays?

At last, she chose the white dress shirt and turned back to her room. Her Batman plush sat safely among her stuffed Ewoks on her Superman bed sheets, and the shelves of her room were heavy with her incredible amount of books and action figures. Her walls were covered with posters of Marvel comics, and on the strip of wall right by her bed was taped a small picture of none other than Brittany S. Pierce. Santana knew that it was totally weird to keep a picture of Brittany in her room, but it helped her fall asleep, knowing that Brittany was looking down at her with that thousand-dollar smile. She had gotten the picture from the yearbook; she scanned the page and, with her great Photoshop skills, increased the size of the picture while keeping excellent resolution.

She quickly dressed herself and hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen. Her mother, Maribel Lopez, raised her gaze from the cooking eggs as a little smile sneaked onto her lips. "Good morning, mija," she said as she examined Santana's clothes. She left her place beside the stove and walked to Santana to fix her collar, which Santana really despised.

"Mom," she protested, "I'm not a little kid anymore."

Her mom smiled all-knowingly. "So you'd rather leave the house with your collar looking all funny?" she asked slyly. Santana sighed in defeat and turned her head away.

After eating breakfast and receiving her already-packed lunch from her mom, Santana hoisted her backpack onto her back and left for school, deep in thought. She was wondering if Eros, the god of love and sexuality, and Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, had ever engaged in sexual relations. It would be totally gross, because Aphrodite was Eros's mom, but…well, they had sex with practically everyone else on Mount Olympus, so she wouldn't put it past them to perform incest.

She was ripped out of her thoughts when she felt someone punch her arm powerfully. She gasped and snapped around, fists up in the air and ready to beat the crap out of whomever it was. She groaned when she found herself face to face with the colossal smile of Sam Evans—one of her two and a half friends. "Gotta watch your back, Luke."

"_Excuse me?_ I assume that by calling me Luke you're referring to yourself as Obi-Wan, and I am so not cool with that," she rubbed her aching arm.

"What are you talking about, Lopez? I _am _Obi-Wan," he smirked.

"If you're Obi-Wan, then that automatically makes me Qui-Gon Jinn, because we all know that I'm better than you," she continued to walk down the street with a smug grin on her face, Sam by her side.

"Qui-Gon Jinn was _not_ better than Obi-Wan. Darth Maul killed him in like two seconds."

"What_ever_," she rolled her eyes playfully. She liked Sam (strictly as a friend, of course), and she kind of considered him to be her best friend. The other friend of the two and a half was Artie Abrams, who was also pretty cool, but he was a little too critical sometimes. Sam was easygoing, and it seemed like he and Santana never ran out of things to talk about.

"So," he began. "Prom's in two months."

Santana averted her eyes and gulped inaudibly. "And?" she asked matter-of-factly, trying to make it seem like she couldn't possibly care less about prom.

"Who are you gonna go with?"

Santana didn't answer. She knew very well with whom she wanted to go, but she also knew very well that it wouldn't happen even in her wildest dreams. Brittany was probably already asked to prom by one of the jocks. Santana never had a chance.

"Wait." Something suddenly occurred to her. She turned to Sam. "Why…? I mean, you're not… Are you?"

Sam looked puzzled for a few moments, his brow furrowed, and then it was like a light bulb lit in his head. "OH! No—I mean—I wasn't asking _you_ to prom—I know that you're gay, so—"

"You _what?_" she all but shouted, utterly panicked.

"I—I mean—well, I've seen the way you look at her, and—" Sam seemed just as panicked as Santana felt.

"Look at whom?"

"I—" He glanced at her, defeated. "Brittany," he said finally.

Santana's cheeks flushed deeply and she turned her head away. Was it really _that_ obvious? How many more people knew about Santana's crush? "How did you know?" she asked, so quietly that he barely heard her.

"I don't know, I guess I just…" He gazed at her uneasily. "I think I'm the only one who knows, though, so don't worry," he reassured her.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, Santana's eyes glued to the ground and Sam's hands fidgeting with anything he could get a hold on. "It seems like you really like her," he said after a little while, cautiously but earnestly.

"It doesn't matter," Santana muttered firmly. "It's never gonna happen. The only time Brittany ever looks at me is to aim her slushy so that it'd hit me square in the face. I don't even know why I like her so much… It's just something that's always been there."

Sam nodded understandingly, his worried eyes still on Santana. She desperately wanted to change the subject, so she cleared her throat and asked, "Who do you wanna go with, then?"

Sam smiled sheepishly and bit his lip. "Mercedes."

Santana let out a little sigh of disbelief. "_Mercedes? _As in Mercedes Jones? As in the biggest diva at school?"

"Well," he began defensively, "she's not the _biggest_ diva at school. I think that title safely belongs to Rachel Berry."

"Whatever, Mercedes is enough of a diva," Santana chuckled amusedly. "So how are you planning to ask her?"

"I'm not," he said quickly. "I have about as much of a chance of going to prom with Mercedes as you do of going to prom with Brittany."

Santana turned her gaze back to the pavement. She didn't want to destroy his hopes, but deep down, she knew that he was right. Mercedes, while not as popular and not as arrogant as Brittany, had her own group of friends, who were all way above Sam and Santana in the social ladder. Not to mention the fact that she was black, and was known for only wanting to date black guys. Sam, with his ivory skin and bleached-blond hair, was about as far from black as was humanly possible.

They walked the remaining way to the school in silence, each lost in their own self-pity and hopeless love.

* * *

"Who can tell me how to find the inverse of a function?" Mrs. Hagberg droned boringly. Santana's hand shot up. "Yes, Santana."

Santana took in a deep breath and glanced at Brittany, who was sitting to her right, texting under her desk, before she turned back to Mrs. Hagberg and said, "You change all of the x's to y's and all of the y's to x's and then solve for y."

Mrs. Hagberg stared at her for a few moments, her eyebrows raised, and finally said, "That is correct."

Santana rolled her eyes at the teacher, who was now facing away from her and writing on the whiteboard. Of course it was correct—she could have taught this math class a hundred times better than Mrs. Hagberg, and in a much more interesting manner that would engage the students in the material and make them love calculus the way she loved it. Unfortunately, she had no college degree to prove her abilities, and therefore would never be considered for such a job at this stage. She had so much potential to be something big but no one seemed to care—just like Peter Parker.

Santana heard scattered giggles to her right, so she cautiously turned her head to find that the Cheerios in the class were all staring at her with those damned superior smiles that told her that she was at the bottom and they were at the top. Her eyes finally landed on Brittany, who, to her immense surprise, was not wearing the same haughty grin that her friends were. Her eyes sparkled and she was looking at Santana like she was the most interesting thing in the world. Santana's face reddened and she immediately turned away, wondering what on earth would make Brittany S. Pierce gaze at Santana Lopez the way she was now.

* * *

"Santana," Artie wheeled himself to their regular table at the corner of the cafeteria.

Santana hummed in response, her eyes glued to her iPhone and her fingers working feverishly on the screen.

"I wanna talk to Coach Beiste about that stupid Stick guy who keeps locking me inside the porta potties. Can you come with?"

"Can't," she mumbled, her eyes still on her phone. She heard Sam chuckle beside her.

"Why not?" Artie asked slowly.

Santana sighed deeply and raised her eyes to him. "Because I'm feeding my Xweetok. She's got the Sneezles and I have to find a Magic Cookie to cure her."

Artie stared at her, blinked once, and exhaled incredulously, "_What?_"

Sam snorted into his sandwich. Santana considered slapping him hard across the face, but decided that she'd get him back later by outwitting him, which was possibly her favorite pastime.

When she turned back to Artie, she found that he was still gaping at her in disbelief. "What the hell is a Xweelot or whatever you just said?"

"A Xweetok," Santana enunciated carefully. "It's a Neopet."

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Artie exclaimed. "You still _play_ that stupid game?"

Sam couldn't keep it together anymore, and he dropped his sandwich on his Ziploc bag and bent forward, roaring with laughter. Santana narrowed her eyes at him, making a mental note to kick his ass (with her words) later, and shifted her gaze to Artie once again. "It's not _stupid_, and I've got three Neopets who depend on me for literally everything. I was actually thinking of adopting a fourth one as well from the Pound, but I couldn't decide if I wanted a Shoyru or a Chia, because I've already got a Xweetok, a JubJub, and an Aisha, so—"

"Santana!" Artie slammed his gloved hands on the table. By this point, Sam was laughing so hard he was practically gasping for air. "_Eight-year-olds_ play Neopets."

Santana looked him straight in the eyes. Taking criticisms from the popular kids at school was one thing—taking criticisms from someone who was supposed to be her friend was a whole other awful. "Your point?"

Sensing her bitterness, Artie quickly replied, "Well, I guess it doesn't really matter. I still play with my superheroes action figures, so I guess I'm not really one to talk."

"Don't we all…" muttered Sam, who had recovered from his laughing attack.

They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, each immersed in his or her own lunch, until Artie finally spoke up again. "Why was Brittany looking at you like that after you answered the inverse question?"

Santana raised her gaze to him, worried that he might've sensed her crush, too. "I don't know," she shrugged it off.

"Hm," Artie seemed to be deep in thought. Santana silently wished for Gaea to swallow her whole or for someone to rain a blitzkrieg on them. Anything to distract Artie from finding out about her undying love for her number one enemy.

* * *

It happened after sixth period, when she walked out of the Spanish room, Mr. Schuester's horrible pronunciations still ringing in her ears, and found herself staring squarely at none other than Brittany S. Pierce, who was obviously waiting for someone. When Santana began to walk toward the front doors and Brittany followed her (Santana did not miss the fact that one of Brittany's hands was hidden behind her back), she panicked a little. Was Brittany waiting for _her_?

Knowing that she'd have to face her sooner or later, Santana took in a deep breath and turned around, only to jump back three feet when she realized that Brittany was literally right behind her with a smile that could frighten Zeus into Tartarus. She gulped quite audibly and a most unpleasant shudder passed through her.

Brittany just stood there, her right hand still hidden behind her back, and smiled the most unsettling smile that Santana had ever seen. Santana quickly thought of possible escape routes—the front doors were about two-dozen feet behind her, but Brittany, with her cheer and dancing muscles, would have no problem tackling Santana down if she so wished, so Santana decided that it would be better to just stand here and take whatever Brittany was going to give her.

Finally, but still with that _smile_, Brittany uttered quietly, "You're very good at math."

Santana stared at her incredulously. Was Brittany softening her with a compliment before landing the big blow?

Brittany, completely undeterred by Santana's very obvious inner struggle, continued on. "Are you one of those geniuses who can calculate big numbers in their heads?"

Santana narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She was in fact able to calculate large numbers in her head, but she knew that admitting it would only push her another rung down the social ladder. Instead, she found herself entranced by Brittany's lips, how pink they were, and the way they stretched so beautifully into that taunting smile, and what they must taste like, and how they would feel pressed against her own lips, and…

Brittany spoke again, but it took a few moments for Santana to register her words. "How fast would you be able to calculate the time you'd need and the speed your body would have to be moving at in order to dodge this slushy?"

"I—what—" Santana stuttered, and the next thing she knew, the world became red and frozen. The sticky slushy oozed down her now ruined sweater, and even somehow got past her glasses and into her eyes. Some part of her could hear Brittany's cruel laughter ring through the empty hallway as she walked around her and out of the building. Santana removed her glasses and rubbed her stinging eyes on her perfectly white sleeve.

That night, as she lay in bed, a few rebellious tears trickling down her face, cursing herself for falling dumb once again to Brittany's callous hand, she wished that she had some way, any way, of winning the wild and untamed heart of the girl of her dreams.

* * *

The beeping of her alarm clock ripped through her room, and she quickly reached to her right to silence it, only to hit her hand on her desk. She grunted and rubbed her hand, yawning sleepily.

Wait a minute. Her_ desk?_

Santana opened her eyes immediately. She was lying on her side, and her desk was right in front of her, when it should've been across the room. She must've fallen off of her bed and rolled all the way here in her restless sleep. Weird… Wouldn't she have woken up from the fall?

She brought her hand to the carpet to help herself up, but the carpet was about four whole feet below her. She frantically rolled around, and held back a scream as she realized that she was floating a good couple feet above the ground. What. The. Heck?

Was this some kind of joke? A prank? But who would play a prank on her in her own home? It was just her and her parents. And anyway, it didn't seem like anything was holding her up, so how could this be a prank?

A little more than panicked now, she tried to force her body downwards, but it wouldn't budge. She bent her neck upwards and began to move her arms in breaststroke motions, as if she was swimming in water. This worked a little better; slowly but surely, she began to swim through the air toward her bed. After five minutes had passed and she only made it halfway across the room, she sighed, frustrated, and tried to make her brain work.

Okay, fact number one: She was floating. Fact number two: She could swim through the air. Fact number three: Swimming was obviously not the right way to do it. She turned her faith to the only person she had ever heard of who had been in any situation similar to this—Clark Kent.

She remembered the countless comics, the movies, the old television series. There were two main forms that Superman would fly in—one with both of his hands straight before him, palms open, and the other with one of his hands straight before him and the other bent by his body, both hands in fists. She decided that if she was going to do this, she might as well do it the cool way. She bit her lip in concentration, balled up her hands into fists, bent her left arm and locked it by her boob, and straightened her right arm before her.

The effect was instantaneous—she was sprung forward so quickly and so powerfully that she crashed into the wall above her bed, hitting her head on the bedpost and landing on the mattress with an agonized wail. As she curled up on the bed and hugged her head in attempt to make the pain go away, she added one more thing to the list of things that she failed at: Flying.

All right. It was time to stop this self-pity party and focus on the real problem here. She was able to fly. Why was she able to fly? Sure, she knew that she was meant for great things—but flying? The ability to fly meant a lifelong commitment to saving mankind. She would become a superhero, loved and praised by the entire universe. It wasn't exactly the kind of publicity that she was expecting in her future, but, well, who could turn down being a freaking _superhero_?

By the time her alarm clock ringed a second time, all traces of pain and self-pity were gone and replaced by an unbelievably enormous amount of excitement. All her life she'd been reading about superheroes, their successes, and their achievements—who knew that she was actually a superhero herself? She leaped out of her bed and practically skipped to the bathroom, humming happily to herself.

When she left the house for school, the two sides of her mind that were always fighting with each other (she always imagined one side to be a little angel and the other side to be a little devil who lurked on her shoulders, just like in the cartoons) had already come to a firm agreement that she needed to learn to control her power as soon as possible. There were lives waiting to be saved, and she was far from mastering the art of flying. This must take precedence above all other activities—school and homework could wait. _Superwoman_ was here.

Once again, Sam sneaked behind Santana and surprised her. This time, however, she was ready for him. Clark Kent was not only a good-looking flying man; he had super-strength and could lift an entire airplane by himself. She aimed her fist at Sam's arm, cocked her hand back, and sent it at him at full speed.

Sam caught her fist in his hands and chuckled playfully. "You may be able to outsmart me, Lopez, but I'm still ten times stronger than you."

Santana groaned in frustration and pulled her fist out of his hands, glaring at it. She was obviously _not _Luma Lynai—she had super-strength just like Superman. Flying wasn't as cool without super-strength, but she'd have to make do. She dropped her hand by her side and turned her glare to Sam, completely ready to reintroduce that fist in order to wipe that stupid smirk off of his face.

"What are you so sore about?" he asked curiously, making Santana roll her eyes and renew her walking. She pondered whether she should tell him or not. A superpower certainly was not something to gloat about—superheroes had to be discreet about their true identities. On the other hand, having a sidekick would be kind of awesome, especially if it was Sam. And _especially_ if she could tell him all the time that _he_ was the sidekick and _she_ the superhero. So much for Obi-Wan, huh?

She turned her head to Sam, a pompous grin creeping onto her lips. "I'm not sore about anything. I'm actually very happy right now."

"Oh?" Sam cocked an eyebrow, clearly amused.

"What I'm about to tell you has to stay between us, okay? Like, if you go and tell this to other people, I'm afraid I'd have to kill you. This is top-secret information, understand?" She made a big scene of snapping her head around to make sure no one was in hearing distance. Sam rolled his eyes, but looked interested enough to keep his mouth shut.

"All right. I'm Superwoman."

"You're—_what?_" Sam burst into laughter, but quickly stopped when he realized that she wasn't kidding. "Why on earth do you think that you're Superwoman?"

"Because I can fly," Santana replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sam eyed her suspiciously, and after a few moments of silence, he spat, "Prove it."

Santana stopped in her place and glanced around to make sure that no one would be able to see her. Once she deemed the area clear, she balled up her fists again, bent her left arm, and pointed her right arm straight above her, her eyes closed tightly.

Of course, by Murphy's Law, nothing happened. Sam snorted as she lowered her arm and sighed in frustration. "I flew this morning, okay? I woke up four feet above my carpet and then flew to my bed. Well, I flew into the wall above my bed, but that's besides the point."

Sam, naturally, looked entirely unconvinced. He had the decency not to tell her that she was completely insane, but she knew very well that he was thinking it. So much for superhero and sidekick.

During the day, she tried to find any excuse to exercise her power. She tried to float in her desk chair, at the cafeteria table, even above the toilet seat in the bathrooms. Her attempts were of no use—no matter how much she concentrated, how hard she squinted her eyes, she remained safely glued to the ground. Damn Newton and his stupid gravity law.

It was on her way back home that she finally got her first break. Luckily, Sam was there to witness the entire event.

It wasn't as smooth and awesome as it should have been—she tripped on a rock and simply never hit the ground. She braced herself for the pain that never came.

As soon as it happened, Sam squawked in surprise and stared at her, wide-eyed and incredulous. "You—you weren't lying!"

"Of course I wasn't lying. I'm Santana Lopez, I never lie," she stretched her lips into the most innocent smile she could muster.

Sam rolled his eyes, but still looked very disturbed. Santana was floating about two feet above the sidewalk and had rolled onto her side so that she could face him. She looked somewhat rattled herself, but was enjoying Sam's reaction far too much for anything to bother her.

"Okay," Sam began. "Can you actually fly, though, or do you just float like that?"

"I can fly—watch," she rolled around again so that her front was facing the ground. Tongue between her teeth, she bent her left arm and stretched her right arm before her.

Just like before, she began to fly much too fast for her to be able to control her body. She could hear Sam yell something behind her, but kept her eyes on the path in front of her. She realized, to her great dismay, that she was flying straight at a huge oak tree. She quickly retracted her arm, which made her unbalanced and caused her to flip over, still in the air. Well, at least she didn't hit the tree.

Sam quickly caught up, laughing in disbelief. "I can't believe that you can actually freaking _fly_, Santana."

"Pretty cool, huh?" Santana rolled onto her back and locked her hands behind her head as if she was simply lying on a towel at a sunny beach. Her grin only widened when she saw that Sam was gawking at her, completely in awe of her superpower. "I've already decided that you can be my sidekick."

"Wait—what? No way, I'm not a sidekick!" he said defensively.

"Are you just gonna wait for your own superpower to appear, then?" Santana taunted, enjoying every bit of this little banter.

Sam bit his lip, knowing that she was right. It was either be a sidekick or be a nothing.

His pride, however, would not allow him to be something as lowly as a sidekick, and especially not if Santana was his superhero boss. He would settle for being the best friend of the only superhero he ever knew. "Nah, I think I'll pass."

"Fine, then." She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted, still floating a few feet above the ground.

"Can you at least talk to me like a normal person and stand?" Sam reprimanded, but Santana didn't miss the way his lips slightly curved upwards with his words.

"Uh—" Santana flipped around, facing the sidewalk again, and reached down her hands. She was close enough for her open palms to flatten on the cement, but there was still nothing to hold onto so that she could pull herself down.

She heard Sam snort above her. "Real superhero you are." His chuckle quickly turned into a cry of pain when Santana kicked his left leg as hard as she could.

She looked around and waited for a brilliant plan to formulate in her brain, but to no avail. With a sigh and the words "epic fail" ringing through her mind, she bent her left arm, shut her eyes as tightly as possible, and pointed her right fist to the ground.

She wasn't sure what she despised more—the pounding pain in her head or Sam's uncontrollable laughter. It was a miracle that she didn't break her glasses in the process. She sat up, her legs sprawled widely before her, and rubbed the right top of her head, which had hit the ground directly after her fist did.

When Sam finally caught his breath, and with a giant grin still spread on his face, he said, "I think you need some training."

"Ya think?" she muttered sarcastically, getting to her feet and still rubbing her head. She lifted her backpack onto her shoulders again and continued to walk down the street, as if all of this never happened.

"So can I watch you train?" Sam walked by her side with his hands on the straps of his backpack, and Santana thought with an appreciative smile that he looked like a little boy who had just met his biggest hero. She was reminded once again of why she loved him so much, as a friend.

"Yeah," she replied genuinely. Sam's eyes lit up and Santana sensed that he was trying very hard to force back his excitement. Her little smile stretched into a wide grin.

They agreed that the first thing on a superhero's agenda should always be rescuing humans, and that her trainings should begin as soon as possible, so they hurried to Santana's house and out to her backyard. Thankfully, her parents were at work, and there was a tall brick wall around her garden, so they had some privacy to try to figure out this superpower.

They realized pretty quickly that simply bending one arm and stretching out the other one, while standing, would not work. Santana tried to think. In the two times that she was able to fly, she fell and her ability sort of saved her. Maybe her power had to be prompted by panic—which was kind of annoying, but it was better than not being able to fly at all.

"Okay," Santana clapped her hands together. She climbed on top of a lawn chair and turned back to Sam. "I'm going to jump off of this and see what happens."

Naturally, jumping did not cut the deal, especially since she landed on her feet. Santana let out a frustrated sigh and turned around to glare at the chair as if it was the one responsible for the difficulties of her superpower. Mankind had better be freaking kissing her feet by the time she figured out this thing—now she could finally appreciate the hardships that all of her favorite superheroes went through.

And suddenly, she wasn't on her feet anymore. Sam pushed her forcefully at the chair, and the panic that had risen in her momentarily was enough to make her float aboveground. She spun around and tried to keep her balance for long enough to send him a good if-looks-could-kill glare. He simply shrugged in response and pointed out the fact that she could at least practice flying now.

Practicing flying, as it turned out, was a hazardous and possibly deadly ordeal. When she wasn't crashing into brick walls, trees, lawn furniture, and whatever else was in her way, she was spinning around uncontrollably, desperately trying to regain her balance. Sam did his best to steady her, and one time even jumped in front of her to stop her from flying into a flowerbed (which he deeply regretted later—putting your face in front of a flying woman's fist was not the best idea in the world).

After four labored hours and many bruises on her body to prove it, Santana was finally getting the hang of this whole flying deal. Turns out that all she had to do was let herself fall forward without trying to prevent the fall, and she'd instantly be floating. She became rather excellent at controlling the direction and speed of her flying, and by the time dusk rolled around, she was soaring through her backyard, doing flips in the air and pretending to be hanging off of branches. Sam was happy for her, but she could sense the jealousy lurking in him—and, well, she couldn't really blame him for it. If it were the other way around, she would most certainly be envious of him.

Later on that night, as she climbed into bed with a giant ear-to-ear grin on her face, she remembered how she felt a mere twenty-four hours before, and her wish for something miraculous to happen. Well, maybe wishes _do_ come true.

* * *

When Santana woke up the next morning, surprisingly early for a Saturday, she had one thought on her mind and one thought only—every superhero she had ever read about was identified by his or her attire. She needed a Superwoman outfit.

She Googled the nearest costume store and, without going into too much detail, asked to borrow her mom's car. The drive only took fifteen minutes, and before she knew it, she was standing in front of a little shop with a sad excuse for a sign that read, "Uncle Laffy's Costumes Extraordinaire." She didn't know who Uncle Laffy was, and hoped that she wouldn't have to find out. Sounded like a creepy pedophile clown that offers kids candy from a van.

She walked carefully into the store, and jumped a bit when a little bell rang above the door, announcing her arrival. The store was, no surprise, completely deserted, and for a good reason, too—the costumes on the racks were cheap and completely disorganized, and she was pretty sure she smelled something like a dead animal. Well, if she were to be attacked, at least she could fly out of there. Literally.

She wandered further into the shop, examining the various costumes. She found several different versions of Batman—all crappy with polyester masks and one that was even in green and purple (she _really _hated when costume makers wouldn't stick true to the original characters; plus, the costume looked like some weird combination of Green Goblin and Robin more than anything else). She was examining a Captain Kirk uniform when she felt hot breath on the back of her neck.

She whirled around, fists raised before her and completely ready to whip out her nonexistent Kung Fu skills. She stumbled back into the costume rack when she found herself face to face with a man that she suspected looked worse than the Joker without his makeup. Hello, Uncle Laffy.

"Um—" Santana stammered. She couldn't find words to express her wishes—she was too focused on the fact that the middle-aged man only had about three teeth in his mouth, and they were all rotten, and that one of his eyes was looking in a different direction. His breath smelled like fish oil that's been fried and then fed to a pig only to be pooped out by that pig, and she was about 75% sure that there were bugs in his hair. Besides finding out that she could fly, this was the number one weirdest thing that had ever happened to her. Okay, well, maybe it was weirder than flying.

The man smiled widely and reached his hand to steady her. Santana cringed. "Hello, my girl," he hissed, and Santana noted that he may or may not be part snake. "Welcome to Uncle Laffy's Costumes Extraordinaire. How may I be of service?"

Every rational thought in Santana's mind screamed at her to get the _heck_ out of there, but, for once, she decided to listen to her irrational side. She was a _superhero_, and _superheroes_ were strong and courageous.

Well, forget the strong part—this man could overpower her without even trying. Actually, forget the courageous part, too—she felt like she was about to pee her pants. Knowing that the fastest way to get out of there involved some sort of communication, she stuttered, "I—well—um—I was looking for a—um—Superwoman costume."

The man's smile widened and, to Santana's immense relief, he backed away from her and turned to one of the costume racks. She didn't know how he found it so quickly in this mess, but in a few seconds, he had a red and blue Superwoman costume in his arms. And—of course—it was the sluttiest Superwoman costume Santana had ever seen.

At the moment, however, all Santana wanted was to get out of that horrid shop, so she quickly paid the snake-man twenty dollars and bolted out of the store, the costume in her arms.

She was back at her house and up the stairs in no time, and she locked the door of her room behind her before shimmying out of everything she was wearing except for her starry Wonder Woman undies. The costume, which comprised of a top, a bottom, a cape, and boots, was very simple to put on; a little too simple for Santana's liking.

Finally, she turned to the mirror. As soon as she did, her jaw dropped straight to the ground.

Is it weird to think that you're hot? Well, even if it was, it was so freaking true—Santana stood there, just gaping at herself through the mirror and appreciating the sight before her. The top was not the long-sleeve shirt from the comics; it was, well, a big blue bra with the red and yellow Superwoman logo on it. She had to admit that her cleavage looked pretty _fine_. The red skirt was too short to even be called a skirt—maybe an oversized cloth belt. Thank God she had the red cape to hide her ass, which would surely be hanging out. The cape, however, was so thin she was sure it would rip, and the boots were made of very uncomfortable plastic.

She released her hair from her ever-existing ponytail and slipped off her glasses. Well, if Brittany could see her like this—_no one_ would be able to resist Santana Lopez the way she looked now.

* * *

That Monday, Santana practically skipped out of the house in excitement. She was wearing her regular attire, except under it all was the Superwoman outfit. It proved quite difficult to stuff the cape into her button-down shirt, so she ended up stuffing it in her pants. It was uncomfortable, and made her butt look huge and lumpy, but she could think of no other solution.

"Hey, Superwoman," Sam grinned when he appeared out of nowhere like he always did. "How's the flying?"

"Pretty awesome. I have my Superwoman outfit and everything now—I'm ready to start saving lives," she said the last bit in a deep, important voice. Sam's grin widened and he began to babble eagerly about how the whole world was going to look up to her and she'd become the most popular girl on the planet. Santana silently vowed to herself that no matter how popular she became, Sam would always be her best friend.

She waited the entire day for an opportunity to be heroic to appear. She found herself even wishing for somebody to fall off of a chair or something. But she knew that she had to keep her real identity hidden—that's how all the superheroes did it. Well, if no one recognized Clark Kent when he was without his glasses and in his Superman outfit, then surely no one would recognize her either, right?

It was when she was wiping a blue slushy off of her face in the bathroom that an opportunity finally presented itself. Quinn walked in and seemed beyond frustrated, so Santana slipped on her glasses and carefully asked, "What's wrong?"

Quinn turned to her, surprised, like she hadn't even noticed that Santana was standing there. Her eyes scanned the bathroom to make sure that there was no one else in there with them, and then she finally turned her attention back to Santana. "Coach Sue has this new number planned for us. She wants to shoot someone out of a cannon she bought, and, well, obviously nobody volunteered. Nobody except for pride-driven Brittany, who always has to prove how great she is. So now Coach Sue's gonna shoot Brittany out of this giant cannon, and I'm not too fond of Brittany, but even I don't wish her life to end so soon."

Santana froze, wide-eyed and panicked. Brittany's life was about to be cut short by one of Coach Sylvester's insane and irrational plans? She could _not_ let that happen. It was time to introduce Superwoman to the world.

Without even saying goodbye to Quinn, she sprinted out of the bathroom and didn't stop until she was standing by the football field, half-hidden behind the school's main building. There was, in fact, a huge red and black cannon with orange flames painted on it in the center of the football field. A couple of Cheerios were helping Brittany up into the cannon, and Coach Sylvester was standing by, watching with a satisfied smirk on her face. Santana turned away so that she'd be completely hidden by the building, took in a deep breath, and began to pull off her clothes.

She left her clothes and her glasses on the dirt where she was standing, and examined herself briefly before turning her attention back to the football field. The other Cheerios were standing back now, and Brittany's body was halfway into the cannon. Coach Sylvester was walking to the operating switches. It was now or never.

She let herself fall forward until she was floating, and then bent her left arm and stretched her right arm before her, directing it straight at the mouth of the cannon. She rocketed across the football field at an amazing speed, but made sure to keep full control over her body. Before any of the Cheerios or Coach Sylvester noticed anything, she was already pulling Brittany out of the cannon and flying away with her.

Yeah, not having super-strength was _really_ going to be a problem.

As Santana struggled to continue flying while keeping Brittany safely held in her arms, Brittany turned around, her expression utterly terrified, and shrieked, "Santana!"

Crap. Turns out losing the glasses and letting her hair down wouldn't be enough to conceal her identity after all. "I—um—" She lowered her voice, "I'm not Santana."

Brittany gaped at her incredulously, still obviously panicked that she was flying in the arms of the biggest nerd she knew who also happened to be wearing a Superwoman costume. A very…_revealing_ Superwoman costume. Brittany tore her gaze off of Santana's boobs, which was a little hard since they were pressed against her face, and raised her eyes back to Santana's face. "Yeah, you are."

Santana cursed under her breath, and looked for a place she could land in where she wouldn't be seen. It sucked big time that Brittany could tell her true identity, but there was a more pressing concern at the moment—she was never much for working out, and Brittany, while very skinny, was getting incredibly heavy.

She landed on the roof of the farthest side of the main building and released Brittany from her hold, panting. Brittany stood back a little, just staring at Santana with a clear mixture of feelings. There were a million questions she wanted to ask, so she began with the most obvious one. "You can fly?"

Santana raised her gaze to her and nodded slowly, watching for Brittany's reaction. The latter simply continued to stare at her, biting her bottom lip and looking—to Santana's surprise—uncomfortable. She'd never seen Brittany act anything other than arrogant and superior.

Brittany wanted to ask how, but she was pretty sure even Santana didn't know the answer to that, so she settled for inquiring, "Why did you pull me out of the cannon?"

Santana's eyes lowered and she licked her lips. "Because you would've died if Coach Sylvester shot you out of it," she said quietly.

Santana wasn't looking at Brittany, so she couldn't catch the way Brittany's eyes were roaming her body, lingering on her upper thighs and the crevice between her breasts. Brittany was surprised with herself—she usually never regarded girls in such a manner, and certainly not anyone like Santana Lopez. But, to be fair, Santana Lopez didn't usually look like _this_, with her thin figure and wind-blown hair and her damp, plump lips and just so…_delicious_.

Brittany blinked a few times and shook her head. There was no way in hell she would ever date someone like Santana Lopez. She had a reputation to keep, and dating the world's biggest nerd would bury her at the bottom of the social pyramid. Desperate to get her mind off of that damn body, she cleared her throat and asked, "Why would you care?"

Santana looked at her, eyebrows raised in question. Brittany bit her lip uncertainly and clarified, "Why would you care if I died? I've been nothing but mean to you."

Santana fidgeted uneasily with the bottom of her skirt. When she realized that Brittany wouldn't let go of the matter until she got an answer, she inhaled deeply and said, "I don't know, I guess I just… No one deserves to die like that." She turned her gaze away again.

They stood awkwardly in silence for a couple minutes, Santana too intimidated to meet Brittany's eyes, and Brittany just examining Santana with great interest. She sensed that Santana's answer was not the complete truth, and she had a feeling she knew what this complete truth was, but for some reason, she didn't feel like making fun of her at the moment. She just continued to watch Santana with intrigued eyes.

Santana, who knew Brittany quite well, was waiting for her to unleash her cruel tongue. Something about how even with this Superwoman costume, not even a sex offender would want her, or how it was better for her to keep her glasses on, that way they would at least hide a part of her hideous face. Which reminded her—glasses. She could barely see anything without them. She needed to get contacts.

"So…" Brittany began, and Santana raised her eyes to her once again. "You gonna get me off this thing or what?"

"Oh." Santana mentally slapped herself. She had completely forgotten that they were still on top of the roof. But getting Brittany off of the roof meant holding her again, and while she had caught her breath and was ready for it physically, she wasn't sure she had the courage to be so bold again.

Brittany must've read her mind or something, because she was advancing towards Santana until she was so close that Santana could smell her perfume. Great, just another thing she could add to the things she loved but shouldn't love about Brittany.

Santana's heartbeat quickened instantly when Brittany slipped her arm around her neck and looked at her expectantly. She wrapped her left arm around Brittany's back and tucked her right arm under Brittany's knees, and glanced at her one last time before letting herself fall forward.

She could tell Brittany panicked when she did that—she pressed her head firmly into Santana's upper chest and her arms locked tightly around her neck. Santana gulped nervously and let herself slowly float off of the roof and down to the ground.

She didn't pay any attention to it before, but it seemed that she could control her flying even without stretching her arm before her. But Santana's angel and devil sides once again came to an agreement—it was _way_ cooler to fly like Superman.

When Santana landed softly on the ground, she gently put down Brittany's feet, and Brittany released her hold on Santana's neck. Santana looked up at her cautiously, prepared for Brittany to make a snide remark now that she didn't need Santana's help to get off of the roof. Brittany, however, didn't seem like she would be doing any of that.

Santana thought that she looked even more beautiful when she wasn't sneering; she simply regarded Santana, sort of glossy-eyed, and seemed to be deep in thought. Just as Santana was becoming rather uncomfortable, Brittany finally snapped out of whatever trance she was in and came back to her senses. She glanced at Santana one more time, and then shrugged and said, "Thanks, I guess."

Santana nodded and watched as Brittany turned away from her and began to walk in the opposite direction. Before she could stop herself, she heard herself calling after her, "Don't let Coach Sylvester shoot you out of that cannon."

Brittany stopped in her spot and slowly turned around, her eyes completely incredulous. She gave Santana another one of those looks that made her feel like Brittany could read her thoughts, and Santana immediately regretted even speaking at all. Then, to Santana's immense surprise, she saw a small smile play at the corners of Brittany's lips. "Okay," she said simply, and then turned around and disappeared around the corner, leaving Santana gaping after her and more perplexed than she had ever been in her life.

* * *

By the time she entered McKinley High the next morning, she had already mentally prepared herself so that her feelings wouldn't get too hurt. She knew that her little encounter with Brittany wouldn't change anything—Brittany was still at the top and she at the bottom. She just hoped that Brittany hadn't already revealed Santana's superpower to the entire school.

She told Sam on the way to school what had happened. He seemed a bit concerned, but agreed that it was her duty to save Brittany's life, and especially because she had feelings for Brittany. They came to a decision that she'd need a different outfit, one that would really conceal her identity. Santana wanted it to be original, not some crappy polyester superhero costume. She wasn't Lois Lane or Luma Lynai or Laurel Kent—she was Santana Lopez, a _real_ superhero. What she needed was a professional fashion designer, and she knew of only one person who would fit the description—Kurt Hummel.

Kurt wasn't usually seen with people of her social status, but he was nice enough when Santana approached him during lunch. He invited her to sit at their table, although this earned him some threatening glares from his friends, Rachel Berry and Mercedes Jones. Kurt smiled sweetly at her in expectancy. Santana swallowed her fear and began, quietly enough so that Rachel and Mercedes, who renewed their heated argument about whether Whitney Houston or Barbra Streisand was a better singer, wouldn't be able to hear her. "I need an outfit, and you're the most fashionable person I know, so I figured you'd be the best to ask."

Kurt smiled warmly at the compliment and inquired, "What kind of outfit are we talking about?"

Santana shot a worried glance around the cafeteria before turning back to him. "Um—a superhero outfit."

Kurt raised his eyebrows in subtle astonishment. "A superhero outfit?"

"Yeah," Santana shifted uneasily. "It's—I mean—I guess I just want to get a head start on Halloween." She bit her lip, watching for his reaction.

He seemed surprisingly intrigued. "So an original superhero costume? What's your superpower?"

Santana froze. Did Brittany really tell everyone that she had a superpower? If she did, everything would be ruined. She wanted to be able to live normally when she wasn't saving the world, but if everybody knew her true identity, a normal life would be out of the question.

Kurt cocked an eyebrow, and after a moment, went on, "Theoretically, that is."

"Oh!" Santana sighed in relief. "It's, um—I—I mean—the superhero I'm pretending to be can, um, fly," she replied, hoping she didn't give anything away.

"So, like, Superwoman?" Kurt pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"Um." She cleared her throat nervously. "I guess it's like Superwoman, but I want my costume to look different—original."

Kurt nodded, lost in reverie. After a few moments, he turned his attention back to Santana. "Any particular color scheme you'd like?"

"No, I trust you to pick it out," she answered, smiling coyly. A satisfied smirk lit his face, and Santana instantly knew that she had made the right choice.

* * *

"So Kurt said he'd make your new outfit?" Sam questioned when she returned to their regular table. Artie must've been at his Robotics Club meeting, because he was nowhere to be seen. It was just Sam eating a sad little peanut butter and jelly sandwich that must've done nothing to assuage his hunger.

"Yeah," she lowered herself onto the bench and pulled her awesome Legolas lunch box out of her backpack. "He was really nice about it, too."

Sam glanced at the table where Kurt was sitting with Rachel and Mercedes. "What did Mercedes say?" he asked hopefully.

She glanced up at him with a sad smile. "Nothing," she said apologetically. "Sorry."

He shrugged and turned back to his sandwich. Santana wanted to get his mind off of Mercedes, so she went on, "Kurt asked me to meet him outside of school today after the last bell rings. Said he wanted to take my measurements."

Sam raised his eyes to her again. "Wow, he's really professional, isn't he?"

"Mhmm," she hummed, unwrapping her own sandwich from the tinfoil her mother packed it in.

When she looked back up at Sam, he was staring down at her lunch box. "Gimli's better," he said finally.

"You wish," Santana muttered, but couldn't help the little smile that crept onto her face.

"Gimli could kill three Uruk-hai's with one swing of his battle axe," Sam challenged, a taunting smirk playing at his lips.

"Oh, please," Santana scoffed. "Legolas could kill an entire Oliphaunt and all of the Haradrim soldiers on it with one _arrow_. Not to mention the fact that he's unbelievably beautiful."

"I thought you were gay," Sam teased quietly, careful not to say it too loudly.

Santana shrugged. "He could be mistaken for a woman."

Sam snorted and took another bite out of his sandwich. With a victorious grin, Santana lowered her eyes back to her lunch box, and thought that if she squinted hard enough, she could almost make Legolas look like Brittany in very sexy Elven armor.

* * *

As it turned out, Brittany did _not_ reveal Santana's secret to the entire school, nor did she continue to mock her and throw slushies in her face. Well, she was present when her stupid Cheerio friends gave Santana the infamous slushy facials, but at least she wasn't the one doing it. Santana found Brittany staring at her with that intrigued expression not once, but many times, and she didn't know whether she should feel intimidated or jump for joy. Either way, she found herself constantly confused and overwhelmed by a mixture of contradictory feelings.

It took Kurt two weeks to finish the outfit, but once he did and after he presented it to her, Santana decided wholeheartedly that it was _so_ worth the wait.

The quality of this outfit, first of all, was a hundred times better than the quality of the cheap Superwoman one she had bought from the creepy snake-man. And the design—well, Santana had to admit that maybe there were different types of geniuses, who didn't know the entire periodic table of elements by heart. Kurt was certainly a genius. A genius in fashion.

The base of the outfit was a tight, crimson bodysuit that stretched from her ankles all the way to her neckline and wrists. Thin, deep lavender gloves covered her hands and lower arms, and a matching belt hung across her hips. Santana wondered where exactly Kurt had gotten a deep lavender leather belt, but didn't linger too much on the thought when he produced an amazing pair of leather boots in the same color. The boots covered her shins and stopped just below her knees, and were surprisingly comfortable. It was perfect, completely perfect—except for one thing. Every superhero had to have a cape.

Just when she was about to politely voice her concern, Kurt turned around and she found herself gaping at the item in his hands. It was a cape, all right—the most beautiful, glorious, amazing cape she had ever seen. This, too, was in deep lavender, and covered her torso almost completely. Kurt attached its top end to a little hook on the front of the leather belt, making a V shape with the cape on her chest. At the center of her chest now appeared a crimson logo that was sewn into the lavender cape, which showed a B inside a V. Santana, barely able to gather her thoughts because of her amazement at Kurt's talent and efforts, finally found her words, "What does the VB stand for?"

"Varied Bunting," he said as he examined his artwork with a finger between his teeth. When Santana slightly cocked her head to the right in confusion, he explained, "It's the bird I based your outfit on. My dad and I liked to go to the zoo when I was younger, and the Varied Bunting was always the bird that caught my eye first because of its very unique coloring. They're also known as shy birds, so I figured it would suit you well." He raised his eyes to her face, and smiled a little when he found her grinning from ear to ear.

"Wait, we're not finished. I made a mask for you, too, as you requested." Kurt turned around and produced the final piece of the outfit, the cherry to top the ice cream sundae. The mask was mainly made of crimson fabric, with hard, lavender material in the shape of wings attached to the fabric above her temples. The mask did not cover her entire head—only from the top of her forehead to just above her lips, with holes for the eyes and a little hole at the base of her nose so that she'd be able to breathe. Kurt tied the mask tightly under her hair, and then stood back to survey his final masterpiece. Santana, who was way beyond excited by now, turned to the mirror to examine herself.

She was at a complete loss for words. She had never felt more confident than she did now, wearing the number one coolest superhero outfit she had ever seen in her life. Kurt stood behind her, looking at her face through the mirror. "Do you like it?" he asked genuinely, but with a smile on his face that told her that he knew very well the answer.

"That is the understatement of the millennium," she smiled so widely that she feared her face would be stuck in that expression for the rest of her life. Kurt chuckled warmly. She shook her head in disbelief and turned to him. "You did all of _this _for a Halloween costume?" she asked in utter disbelief.

Kurt lowered his gaze, a smile still on his face. "A little birdie told me this wasn't just some Halloween costume."

Santana froze. She almost vowed to kick Sam's ass the next time she saw him, but then realized that if it weren't for him, this outfit probably wouldn't have been half as amazing. "Sam?" she inquired, even though she already knew the answer.

Kurt shook his head slowly. Santana stared at him incredulously. If it wasn't Sam, then it could only have been one other person, but—"_Brittany?_"

When Kurt nodded, Santana thought she was going to faint, and maybe never wake up. _Brittany_ asked Kurt to help _her_? What on earth?

When Kurt saw her facial expression, he chuckled a little. "She's not all bad, you know. I mean, I know she's always been incredibly cruel to you, but Brittany S. Pierce has a soft side, too. You just have to know how to get past her protective shield."

Santana's mouth felt so dry that she thought she might be able to grow a cactus in it. "Shield?"

Kurt nodded and gazed at Santana earnestly. "She's only mean because she's trying to protect herself from pain—she thinks that if she's the queen of the school and feared by the entire student body, she'll never get hurt."

Santana licked her lips and sighed deeply. "Did she tell you that?"

"No," Kurt shrugged. "But I'm usually right with this kind of stuff. Just like I know that you hide behind your glasses and your sweaters because you're afraid that people will see what's under them and judge you by your looks. I assure you, Santana," the corners of his lips curved up again, "that if people judged you by what you look like under the glasses and the baggy clothes, all of their judgments would be positive."

Santana bit her lip. "You really think so?"

He nodded sincerely. "You're very beautiful, Santana. Don't be afraid to show it."

She looked away and felt her cheeks redden. Kurt wasn't one to lie, even if it was a white lie. She sensed that he really meant every word that he said to her, and she would never, ever be able to repay him for the huge boost of confidence that he gave her that day.

* * *

"Okay, this is by _far_ the coolest thing I have _ever_ seen," Sam stood back and watched in awe as Santana paraded around the room in her new attire.

"I know, right? Kurt's a _genius_," she grinned widely at him.

Sam nodded eagerly. "Wait, so Brittany told him about your superpower?" His expression turned concerned.

"Yeah—but he's not gonna go around and tell everyone about it, don't worry," she reassured him. "He's not that kinda guy." She didn't voice the matter that had been bothering her the entire day—that Brittany had helped her out without even telling her. Was she being friendly or was she just in agreement that the world needed a superhero?

"Okay," Sam still looked a bit worried, but when Santana let herself fall forward and started floating, he quickly turned excited again. "Now that you've got the outfit, all you need is someone to rescue." His head snapped in different directions as Santana flew around the room, her cape flailing wildly behind her. "_So. Cool_," he breathed.

* * *

It was only a week later, when their entire grade was on a field trip (Principal Figgins made it a rule that every student had to go on a field trip at least once a year…for some reason, he thought that this was an effective way to end school violence) to a historical museum in a nearby city, that an opportunity to prove herself as a superhero finally presented itself.

It was just like in the comics—a woman was standing at the top of a tall skyscraper, wanting to end her life because her husband had cheated on her or because one of her best friends was a backstabbing bitch. As soon as they came upon this, three familiar heads turned to Santana. They all knew what she was supposed to do.

Quietly, she sneaked into a side alley, Sam following closely behind her. She was already wearing her bodysuit under her clothes, but it took a little while to put on the rest of the outfit (she left her glasses at home that day—the contacts were safely in place). The woman on the roof, thankfully, was incredibly indecisive. Santana decided, however, that she would have to find a way to change into her outfit more efficiently.

Once everything was in place, she let herself fall forward and directed her fist directly above her, careful not to move too quickly or make her presence known. She saw Sam, Kurt, and Brittany's eyes following her as she crept up the building. Before she knew it, she was floating just above the roof, ready to pounce in case the woman decided to jump.

She was crying, very loudly and very miserably. Santana didn't know if she should try to comfort her, or if seeing a flying woman in a superhero outfit would just scare her and make her fall backwards. She had seen _Batman Returns_—multiple times—and she remembered very well how the Penguin and Catwoman framed Batman for pushing an innocent girl off of a building. She was not going to start her superhero career with a bad reputation.

Suddenly, and with no warning, the door to the roof burst open and a hysterical man ran through, completely oblivious to Santana's presence. "Karen! _Karen_! Don't jump!"

This man must've have been the reason for her being on top of this roof in the first place, because before he could get to her, she turned back to the busy street, closed her eyes, and jumped.

Santana didn't wait even a split second. She was soaring through the sky at an incredible speed, and it only took a few seconds for her to reach the woman, who was screaming at the top of her lungs. With much difficulty and strain, Santana was finally able to stop the woman's body and catch it in her arms. She heard gasps and shouting from below her, and the woman frantically turned her tear-soaked face to her. Santana couldn't read her expression—she didn't know if the woman wanted to kiss her or kill her.

She landed on the ground somewhat clumsily, releasing her grip on the woman as soon as it was safe to. The woman stumbled backwards and stared at her, wide-eyed and astonished.

Santana turned nervously to face the crowd. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kurt lean to one of the news reporters who were already at the scene and mumble, "They say her name is Varied Bunting, like the bird. Incredible, isn't she?"

All around she saw the same facial expression—utterly dumbfounded. She shifted uneasily in her spot, waiting for someone, anyone, to break this awful silence.

Slowly, hesitantly, a few people began to clap their hands. They were soon joined by the rest of the crowd, and the next thing she knew, she was being bombarded with microphones and cameras and reporters shouting, "Varied Bunting! Look here! Where did you come from? How did you acquire this power?"

Santana stumbled back, bewildered, and knew she only had one choice—superheroes never answered the reporters' questions. She let herself fall forward and flew out of there, leaving a sea of eager and disbelieving people behind her.

She was able to catch up with the group from her school a few minutes later, and thankfully no one really seemed to notice that she was gone. Sam greeted her with the biggest grin she had ever seen in her life. Jeez, his mouth was _huge._

Nobody really cared about the history museum. Every student and teacher in the field trip was talking excitedly about the new superhero, and how cool she was, and how awesome it was that superheroes actually existed. She heard the name "Varied Bunting" everywhere, and a few people had already started nicknaming her "VB."

Santana didn't know how she expected to feel—proud, incredulous, popular? She found that she didn't care at all about what everybody else was saying about her. All she cared about, at this moment, was that Brittany was staring at her across the hall of the museum with the most genuine and warm smile that she had ever been given.

* * *

After the school bus dropped them off in front of McKinley High, Santana began to make her way down the street with a still ecstatic Sam by her side. She wasn't walking for long, however, before she felt a hand pull on her arm.

Santana's heart skipped a few good beats when she found Brittany's eyes sparkling at her. Brittany glanced at Sam, who got the message, said his goodbyes, and continued on without Santana. Santana turned her head back to Brittany.

"Do you like me?" Brittany asked, very suddenly, and catching Santana completely off-guard.

Santana gaped at her, trying to make her brain work so that she could form words. "I—I mean—yeah—you're pretty cool—"

"Not like that," Brittany cut her off, never taking her eyes off of Santana. "I mean, do you _like me_ like me?"

Santana turned her eyes away as her cheeks flushed in shame. Finding the courage to save a woman who was falling off of a building was one thing—finding the courage to admit your deepest secret to someone who'd most likely torment you for it, well, that was a whole other story.

Brittany loosened her grip on Santana's arm, but didn't let go completely. Santana swore that Brittany could read minds, because she said, "Look, Santana, I know that I've always been super mean to you. But I swear, it's only been because I was attracted to you, and I didn't want to be. I thought that if I tortured you and belittled you enough, that my feelings for you would go away, but they didn't. I didn't want to be attracted to a girl, but…well, I just couldn't help it."

Santana finally met Brittany's eyes, and found that they were completely earnest. Before she could say anything, Brittany went on, "When you saved me from that cannon, I sensed that you returned my feelings, and everything changed. I'm really so, so sorry for making your life miserable for the past twelve years."

Inside Santana's mind, there was an entire parade going on with a float and everything. Outside, though, she was able to keep her cool, and simply smiled warmly at Brittany. The latter took this as a sign of forgiveness, sighed in relief, and said, "Anyway, I thought that if you _liked me _liked me, then I'd maybe go out with you on a date."

"Maybe?" Santana asked quietly, her eyes uncertain.

"Maybe," Brittany smiled widely, clutched Santana's hand in hers, and led her down the peaceful, deserted street.

* * *

**A/N: I may write more if there's enough demand for it, so let me know what you guys want. :)**


	2. The Wolf

**A/N: Wow, well, I think that was definitely enough demand for me to continue. Thank you for all of the kind reviews, they sparked a lot of inspiration. Enjoy! :)**

* * *

VOOSHHHH! Varied Bunting soars down from the sky, surveying the scene before her as her cape flails wildly in the wind. There is a mass of people on the street below her—all utterly panicked and screaming for someone, anyone, to save them from the giant mechanical monster that is advancing their way. The evil cyborg, she sees, has one red eye and thick, metal glasses. His right eye, nose, and the top of his head are all human—the remainder of his face is machine. His mouth creaks open and he cackles maniacally, but his laugh sounds more like metal groaning than anything else. It is obvious that he's here to destroy the great city of Lima.

Varied Bunting finally spots the blond head that she was looking for, and rockets to the ground at full speed, landing with a loud THWACK! Her sidekick, Trouty Mouth—

"_What?_ No! I want a different name!"

"Shut up!"

—seems infinitely grateful that the great hero, Varied Bunting, has finally arrived to save the day. He turns to her, frightened but confident that his amazing, wonderful friend will be able to defeat the evil monster—

"Oh, please."

"Shut _up_!"

—who has promised to crush the city into a single tiny smudge, after which he will proceed to conquer the world. The legendary Varied Bunting is _not_ about to let that happen.

The robot-human, she learns, calls himself the undefeatable CyberArtie, and he has been able to crush whole metropolises such as New York City with his powerful laser gun. Varied Bunting takes flight once more, and turns to the crowd of terrified civilians. "Do not worry, dear citizens of Lima, Ohio. Fear as you may, Varied Bunting will save the day!" And with that, she flies headfirst at the looming cyborg.

The battle is difficult and bloody. CyberArtie is fifty times larger than Varied Bunting, which makes him more dangerous, but also much slower. Varied Bunting, on the other hand, can _fly_, which makes her ability to escape his blows quite excellent. Just when CyberArtie thinks that he's had enough of this pesky little flying superhero, Varied Bunting decides to unleash a superpower that she has never shown the world before, super-strength—

"But you _don't_ have super-strength."

"I swear to God, if both of you don't shut up right now, I will kick your asses all the way to Krypton."

"Right, like you'd be able to do that."

"You know what I would be able to do? Fly you up to the top of the Empire State Building and leave you there, so I suggest you _shut up_."

—which she's kept hidden so that she could use it as a surprise-attack technique, as she's about to do now. Varied Bunting aims her fist at him and flies, again, at full speed—SWOOOOSH!—while the destructive cyborg prepares his laser gun. Before he is finished, however, Varied Bunting's fist lands on his face with a resonating POW!—

"_Ow_!"

"Who doesn't have super-strength, now?"

—and CyberArtie stumbles back onto a crop field and is left unconscious from the powerful blow. The entire city of Lima shrieks in delight and enthusiastic applause rises from the crowd. Varied Bunting turns to them and flashes her great superhero grin, knowing that she's saved the day once again.

"Jesus," Santana plopped down on a lawn chair and glared at her friends. "You guys are impossible to play make-believe with."

"It's not our fault that you make yourself look all amazing," Artie scowled, still rubbing his aching cheek.

Santana turned her gaze to Sam, who looked amused rather than sulky like Artie. He grinned widely, and Santana returned his grin with an all-knowing wink before turning serious again. "I really wish I could find someone to rescue again. The first time was pretty damn awesome."

"Um, Santana, you live in _Lima_. As a superhero, you're obligated to move to a big city like New York, where crime is abundant. The biggest crimes in Lima are people using each other's water or Internet access. Not really superhero-worthy, is it?" Artie raised his eyebrows, almost waiting for her to counter him.

Santana sighed. She almost regretted telling Artie that she was Varied Bunting—unlike Sam, he didn't even try to hide his envy of her superpower. At first he accused her of being a compulsive liar, but he soon recanted that accusation when Santana showed him her superpower. He was so upset that she of all people got to be a superhero that he stopped speaking to her for a few good days. He eventually got over himself and his childish behavior.

And now, apparently, he wanted her to move away. Santana wondered if he really cared about the lives there were to be saved or if he just wanted her as far away from him as possible. Either way, she was getting really sick of his bitterness.

Sam was the polar opposite. Santana noticed how his face fell when Artie mentioned New York—he didn't want her to move away. If he was jealous at all, he never showed it, and Santana felt infinitely grateful for that. Maybe she should stop teasing him all the time.

"I'm not moving anywhere," Santana stated firmly, directing her words more at Sam than at Artie. "The world can wait until I graduate from high school."

Sam's eyes flickered back to life. Really, if she weren't gay, Santana would totally date him. Only he ever understood and appreciated her jokes and intelligence, and he was always there for her when she needed someone. She tried for a moment to imagine him as a girl, but very quickly wiped that horrifying image from her mind.

"So how's Brittany?" Sam asked curiously, and Santana was jolted back to reality. It took her a moment to let his question process, because the picture of him as a girl that looked like an intense body builder with gigantic lips still had her in complete shock.

She cleared her throat and blinked a few times to make the horrid mental image go away. "Um, she's fine," she shrugged and looked away. She and Brittany had been officially dating for a week and a half now, but they still hadn't gone on their first date. Actually, they hadn't done anything. Santana was unpleasantly astonished to find that Brittany still didn't acknowledge her when she passed her in the hallway or when she sat by her in their calculus class. It was incredibly hurtful to know that her reputation was more precious to her than Santana. Santana just hoped that eventually this would change.

"It's weird," she heard Artie state bitterly. She turned her gaze to him.

"What's weird?"

"You and Brittany," he shot, scowling at his knees. Santana could understand why he was acting this way, but it didn't make it any better. Just as Brittany used to toss slushies in her face, she also did so to him. Since they had started dating, however, Santana didn't see Brittany pick on anybody. She just stood back while her Cheerio friends did it. Santana remembered something that a character from one of her favorite movies, _Mean Girls_ (although she'd never admit to watching it repeatedly…she had her nerd reputation to keep up), said: "There are two kinds of evil people—people who do evil stuff and people who see evil stuff being done and don't try to stop it." Santana supposed that she was also the latter kind of evil, but she hardly had the power to stop the bullying at their school. Brittany, on the other hand, was looked up to and could do something in the matter, but she chose not to. Santana again questioned why Brittany was attracted to her.

"I don't think it's weird," Sam spoke up at last. "I think it's natural, and it was bound to happen since they both have feelings for each other. I think she just…needs some time, that's all." He smiled warmly at Santana.

Artie huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. Santana ignored him and turned her eyes to Sam's comforting smile, thinking that he was right, after all. Maybe she should just give Brittany some time to get used to this.

As if on cue, her phone suddenly buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and opened the new text message.

_Brittany [Thursday, 5:13 PM]: Hey… :) do you wanna come to my house tomorrow at 8?_

Santana stared at her phone for a few seconds, her face heating up and her palms moist with sweat. She thought for a few more seconds about her answer, and then typed it in.

_Sure. :-) Is this just hanging out or is it a date?_

She read it about a hundred times, contemplating if it was too straightforward or not, before finally pressing Send. She reread it a few more times after it had already sent, but finally put her phone down, thinking that even if she wanted to change it, it was too late.

When she looked up, both Sam and Artie were gazing at her curiously. She cleared her throat. "It's just this…guy…I know from school…he just wants to borrow my…red lightsaber…" God, she was a terrible liar.

Artie eyed her skeptically, and a little playful smirk played at the corners of Sam's lips. "Red lightsaber?" Sam asked innocently, going with her obvious lie. "Your double-force Darth Maul one or your single-force Darth Sidious one?"

"I—" Santana gasped, trying to force herself to breathe. "_Never. _I would _never_ let _anyone_ borrow my Darth Sidious lightsaber."

Sam's smirk grew into a wide grin. He knew this very well—her Darth Sidious lightsaber was possibly her most precious possession. He made the mistake of trying to touch it once, and she slapped his hand so hard it left a mark. She immediately apologized, and explained that the company had only released seven of this particular make, because it looked identical to the real one and was made of silver, and that it cost her nearly a thousand dollars. Sam still couldn't believe that she had spent almost a thousand dollars on a toy.

Before she had any more time to process the horror of putting her invaluable possession in the hands of some careless teenager, her phone buzzed again, and she opened the text, her hands slightly shaking.

_Brittany [Thursday, 5:17 PM]: It's a date ;)_

Santana swallowed and tried very hard to hide her excitement. She glanced up at Sam and Artie, who again seemed curious, and then turned back to her phone.

_Okay, I'll be there. :-D_

She looked at the text, and at the last minute decided that the :-D emoticon made her seem childish and overly excited, so she changed it to the sultry ;-) winking emoticon. Winking is sexy, right? Plus, Brittany had winked in her text, so winking back is only natural.

After overthinking her simple text a little more, she finally pushed Send and raised her gaze back to her friends. Artie's eyebrows were raised and Sam looked like he was suppressing his laughter. Santana's eyes darted around in search for an excuse. "He…um…said that he needed it for a…um…project."

When her eyes fell on her friends again, she saw, to no surprise, that they were entirely unconvinced. She sighed in defeat and shook her head. "Brittany asked me to come over tomorrow night."

Artie rolled his eyes. Santana was really very close to flying him up to her roof and leaving him there without his wheelchair.

Sam, however, had stretched his lips into a grin once again. "Is it a date?"

Santana nodded carefully, making sure not to look at Artie's reaction, but only at Sam's. Sam seemed very pleased with her answer, and she smiled softly at his enthusiasm. She may have been sick of Artie, but she'd never get sick of good old Trouty Mouth.

* * *

The rest of her day and the day after went by in a haze. Santana was almost like a zombie walking from class to class, completely unaware of her surroundings and constantly bumping into annoyed students. Well, not a zombie, an Inferius, because they're way cooler than zombies. Except Inferi are some pretty scary creatures, and, well, there was nothing scary about Santana Lopez.

When she sat in her seat in calculus class, she risked a glance to her right, and, to her surprise, was awarded a small smile from Brittany. Santana felt her cheeks redden, and she returned Brittany's smile hesitantly.

When she got home, she rushed to the bathroom to take a quick shower. She wanted to look her best for Brittany. Santana used her mom's body soap and shampoo, because they had strong fragrances compared to her simple Dove bar soap and Head & Shoulders shampoo. After making sure that she was clean and sweet smelling, she stepped out of the shower and dried herself.

She wrapped her body in the white towel and hurried to her room, already thinking of possible outfits that she could wear. She thought that her usual sweaters and khakis would be somewhat of a turn-off, but she didn't know what else she had that would fit this occasion. She didn't own any dresses, or even skirts, and only a few pairs of old jeans that she never wore. She tried to think of the sexiest outfit she had, but the only thing that jumped to her mind was the Superwoman costume that she had bought, and, well, that was completely out of the question.

She stared into her closet for literally an hour, pulling things out and sighing in frustration when nothing seemed good enough. She had an ancient pair of red jeans, but she decided against them, fearing that the bright jean color would make her look too much like Blaine Anderson, whom she never really liked. They were pretty torn up anyway, and wouldn't be appropriate for a date.

Finally, after she had lost all hope, she decided on some nice black slacks and a white blouse that her mother had bought her once, but she never wore. When she looked at herself in the mirror after dressing herself, she decided, bitterly, that she looked like she was off to work at some boring office job. But it would have to do.

Santana spent the remaining hours pacing around her room, then skipping down the stairs and pacing around the kitchen, opening and closing the refrigerator, and doing anything except for sitting down and occupying herself. The more minutes ticked by, the more excited and petrified she was.

At last, it was time to leave. Santana made sure that the door was locked behind her, and then pulled out her phone to look at the address that Brittany had sent her. If she was correct, Brittany's street was only about eight blocks from Santana's—it shouldn't take more than twenty minutes for her to get to Brittany's house.

The entire walk was spent patting her hair to make sure it was still in place (she had worn it down for once—she put a thin red hair band on to hold her bangs back) and straightening out her clothes anxiously. By the time she arrived at the baby-blue door, her palms were drenched with sweat and it was extremely hard for her to breathe steadily. She stood in front of the door for a few moments, dreading but waiting for what was to come, before she reached a shaking hand to the doorbell and pushed.

She was focused on the pleasant ring of the doorbell when the door flung open and she was jerked back to reality, where the most beautiful girl she had ever seen in her life was standing in the doorway smiling widely at her. Brittany was dressed in a simple white summer dress with matching white heels, and her hair was curled at the bottom in a way that made her look like the elf Galadriel. She had some blue eye shadow on, which accentuated the gorgeous color of her eyes, and some very delicious-looking lip-gloss. She was just…so perfect.

Santana noticed that Brittany was also checking her out with a small smile on her face. Finally, she raised her eyes back to Santana and offered her a hand. Santana blushed but took it, following Brittany into the house.

Brittany told her that her parents were out for the evening, and that they had the house for themselves. This made Santana extremely anxious for some reason. She'd seen in movies what happens in dates when the teenagers have the house to themselves, and she wasn't sure that she was ready to be intimate yet. She hoped that Brittany wouldn't take it there.

Brittany led her into the dining room, where there was a long wooden table with a flower vase on it. The table was set only in two spots, at the far end and opposite each other, and there were two candles set between the plates and silverware. Wow. This was much more than she expected.

Brittany released her hand, smiled warmly, and said, "I'm gonna go get the food. You can sit down."

Santana nodded and took a seat, watching as Brittany disappeared into the kitchen. She had mixed feelings now that she was at their date. On one hand, she was still upset that Brittany was embarrassed about their relationship, and on the other, it looked like Brittany had put a lot of work and thought into this date. She wasn't sure that she wanted a girlfriend who was ashamed of her, but every kind act Brittany presented made Santana fall more and more in love with her. It was a hopeless situation.

Santana was stunned when Brittany returned with a dish of stuffed chicken and a bowl of fresh garden salad. The latter grinned when she saw Santana gaping with her jaw dropped, and let out a little chuckle. She placed the food on the table and took a seat.

There was some very awkward silence while Brittany served both of them and they began to eat. Santana's mouth was in heaven—she had never tasted chicken that was this delicious. Her mind, however, was very anxious and uneasy. She shot worried glances at Brittany every once in a while, and sensed that she was feeling a bit uncomfortable as well. This Brittany was so very different from the Brittany that Santana had known all her life. It almost made her suspicious.

Finally, after a few more minutes, Brittany broke the silence. "Do you remember what the homework for calc was?"

Santana stared at her. Really? Small talk? "Page 389 numbers one through seventy-one, but only the odd-numbered problems," she uttered quietly, and Brittany nodded and turned back to her food.

Santana renewed her eating as well, but before she could even take another bite, Brittany spoke up again. "You know how sorry I am, right? For what I did to you all these years?"

Santana raised her eyes to her and swallowed nervously. She wasn't sure sometimes if Brittany was sorry or not—and certainly not when Brittany didn't acknowledge her presence when they were among other people. But she looked so vulnerable right now, her azure eyes uncertain, almost fearful, so Santana just nodded.

Brittany continued to look at her, and Santana realized what she saw in her eyes—desperation. It was so difficult to think anything negative of Brittany when she was like this. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, never taking her eyes off of Santana. Finally, it seemed like she had found her words, and she said, "I hate myself for being so cruel. I just…" She took in a deep breath, trying to steady her shaky words. "I'm not strong like you, Santana. I'm a slave to other people's judgments. But I'm trying to change." She looked at Santana hesitantly, waiting for her reaction.

Santana was somewhat shocked by her words. She? Strong? That's something she had never heard before. It always seemed to her like Brittany was the strong one, and she the weak. But her words made sense, and she appreciated every one of them. She licked her lips and replied, "I know."

Brittany nodded and looked back down at her plate. They were quiet for the remainder of the dinner, each lost in her own thoughts and hardly noticing what she was eating. There was silence, but it wasn't awkward anymore.

When they were finished, they moved to the living room, and Brittany put on a movie called _Bridesmaids_. She sat by Santana on the couch and pressed play.

At first, Santana tried to watch the movie, but she was very distracted by the warm body next to her. She and Brittany weren't touching, but she was close enough to hear her calm breathing, and every once in a while, she shifted her eyes sideways in attempts to see what Brittany was doing.

After about fifteen minutes, Santana felt Brittany's gentle hand wrap around hers. Santana looked down at their hands, which were sitting in her lap, and then up at Brittany. The latter, apparently, was not watching the movie either. Her eyes shone in the dark living room, and she was looking at Santana in a way that made her both anxious and excited. Brittany's lips parted, and after a few more moments of staring at each other, she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Santana's lips.

Their kiss was hesitant at first, almost as if they were both too shy to try anything other than small pecks. As the seconds passed, the pecks became longer and more intimate, until Brittany pulled her hand away from Santana's and wrapped it instead around the back of Santana's neck to draw her closer. Santana's hands automatically lifted to Brittany's shirt, and she grasped it delicately, not even taking notice in her own actions.

Santana's heart beat madly when she felt Brittany's damp tongue on her lips, and she opened them, partly shocked and partly eager. "_Oh_," she sighed into Brittany's mouth once she felt her tongue against her own. Brittany's tongue was gentle at first, but slowly became more and more fervent. A few minutes later, they were both breathless and in complete bliss, so content that neither one of them noticed that there was a woman in a wedding dress pooping in the middle of a busy street on the screen of the television.

* * *

Brittany still didn't talk to Santana at school, but sometimes, when no one was looking, she'd throw a coy smile or a playful wink her way. It wasn't a lot, but it was something. Plus, Santana's very vivid memory of their intense make-out session was far from forgotten.

A couple of days later, tragedy hit Lima. A group of thugs led by a very dangerous man who called himself "The Wolf" broke into the Lima City Council to threaten some governmental officials. The specific details weren't released, but Santana did find out that a female secretary was killed at the scene.

There were rumors, too. Nobody knew if they were true or not. Rumors that this Wolf guy had a superpower. Some people swore that they saw him make things fly with his hands, like some sort of weird telekinesis. When Santana saw a picture of the fugitive, she understood immediately why he was called the Wolf. He wore an intricate wolf mask on his face, hiding everything but his loosely curled brown hair. People began to whisper his name when they spoke of him, like saying his name loudly would bring to their tortured deaths. Santana thought that they might as well start calling him He Who Must Not Be Named, but she doubted that the Wolf was anywhere near the terror that is Lord Voldemort. Tom Riddle, after all, is the ultimate villain.

Santana knew what she had to do. The next time the Wolf and his thugs showed their faces, she'd be there to kick their asses.

That opportunity came much sooner than she expected. The next day, it was all over the news that the Wolf was holding hostages at some restaurant midtown, and that he hadn't yet voiced his conditions for releasing them, if he meant to release them at all.

Santana was at school when she found this out. Quietly, inconspicuously, she slipped out of the front doors, ran around the building to a little corner that nobody ever went to, and shimmied out of her civilian clothes. Right when she was about to let herself fall forward and fly, she heard her phone buzz in her backpack. She quickly bent down and pulled it out of the front pocket.

_Brittany [Wednesday, 12:33 PM]: Be careful. Please._

Santana stared at her phone, smiling sadly as she typed in her reply.

_I will, don't worry._

She hit Send and slipped her phone back into her backpack. Unfortunately, she didn't have any pockets in her Varied Bunting outfit, so her phone would have to stay at school with the rest of her stuff. With one last look around, she pulled her mask down over her face and set off.

It turned out that the restaurant midtown was none other than the world-famous Breadstix. Well, it wasn't world-famous, but it was really famous around Lima anyway. She lowered herself, still in the air, examining the scene before her.

There were police cars everywhere, and it looked like even a SWAT team had come to aid in rescuing the hostages. All of the police officers were crouched behind the doors or leaning over the hoods of their vehicles, and they all pointed their guns at the small building on which stood the logo of Breadstix. There was a helicopter circling the area, and Santana made sure she was as far away from that thing as possible, because the last thing she wanted was to become chopped liver. The police had set up a barricade around the building, and she could see news reporters and curious civilians pushing each other to get a better view of the building.

Santana wondered for a moment why the Wolf was holding hostages at Breadstix of all places. I mean, it was just a nice little Italian restaurant that served an unlimited amount of breadsticks. Good breadsticks, too. Who could be unsatisfied with that?

She looked around. Who was she supposed to talk to in order to receive information on the situation? She spotted a couple people in suits who looked important, so she began to hesitantly fly down to them.

As she sank through the air, the crowd of onlookers finally noticed her. She heard shouting and some applause, and people screaming her superhero name. She didn't know what to make of the screams—were they excited to see her, or were they frightened?

When she landed softly on the ground, the people in the suits turned to her, and every single one of them had his or her eyebrows raised. Santana felt her cheeks redden, and silently thanked her mask for covering the majority of her face. She cleared her throat.

One of the men, tall with short black hair and an arrogant face, cracked a mocking smile. He chuckled throatily, looked at his coworkers, and then turned back to Santana. "Look, kid, this is a dangerous job, and only the _big adults_ can handle it."

Santana scowled. Big adults? She was eighteen, and in her last year of high school. He could shove his "big adults" spiel up his ass. She cleared her throat again, holding her head high and refusing to be discouraged by some idiot who thought he was God. "I can help," she stated boldly.

This time, more than one face was looking at her doubtfully. She guessed that she must have looked pretty ridiculous to trained professionals who had been dealing with situations like this for many years. But she was a superhero, and she had to help when innocent lives were on the line.

A kind-looking woman smiled gently at her. "Honey, I really think that you should let us handle this. But thank you for your efforts."

Santana dropped her gaze to the ground, defeated. This never happened to the superheroes in her comic books. Unless you considered Batman, who was deemed a bad guy by the police, too, at first, before he proved himself. Only Commissioner James Gordon believed that Batman could help them out in fighting the villains. Maybe she was like Batman. She just needed to find someone in the police department who'd be willing to be her ally.

At the moment, however, no such police officer was presenting him- or herself. She sighed, glanced at the detectives one last time, and turned in the opposite direction. After she walked a couple of steps, she heard a cellphone ring, and one of the detectives answered.

She was already about thirty feet away when she heard, "Hey! You! Come back!"

Santana slowly turned around, not sure if it was she who was being addressed. The detectives were all staring at her, and the rude man with the arrogant face looked like someone had just told him that they cancelled his birthday. One of the detectives motioned for her to return, so she began to walk back hesitantly. When she was standing in front of them again, they all looked at each other uncertainly until one of them finally spoke up. "He said he'd only speak with you."

"Who?" Santana inquired, somewhat baffled.

"The Wolf," the detective answered quietly. Santana froze. The Wolf would only speak with her? What on earth did he want with _her_?

"I—" Her eyes darted between them, waiting for one of them to smile and say that it was all a joke. This all felt much too strange to be real. The detective held out her phone, and it took Santana a few seconds to realize that she was supposed to take it. She held it in her shaking hand for a moment before placing it next to her ear. She swallowed, quite audibly, and whispered, "Hello?"

"Hello," the voice of a young man spoke back to her. She didn't know if it was her wild imagination or reality, but she felt like the man was looking at her at this very moment, watching her every move. Santana waited for him to speak again. "You know why I wished to speak to you, don't you, now?"

Santana's eyes widened, and she swallowed again. "Uh—" She found herself snapping her head around, suddenly incredibly paranoid. He could be anywhere. Just because his thugs have hostages inside Breadstix doesn't mean that he was in there with them. He could be in any one of the buildings surrounding her, with a sniper rifle aimed at her heart. "No."

The man chuckled knowingly. "Well, when I heard that there is a flying superhero in Lima, Ohio, I just _had_ to meet her."

Santana's brow furrowed. This was it. This was her moment to prove her bravery. "Well, then, why don't I come inside and you can release the hostages?"

The man chuckled again, almost insanely. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. It was never that easy. "No, no, I don't think so… I've got a very different plan for these hostages." And before Santana could say anything else, he hung up, leaving her gaping at the phone. Crap.

"What did he say?" one of the detectives quickly asked, and she raised her rounded eyes to him.

"He, um…" She tried to organize her thoughts. "I asked him to let the hostages go, and he said that he had a different plan for them." She looked up at the detectives, who all seemed beyond worried.

One of them opened her mouth to speak, but before she had the chance to, a shrill scream ripped through the air. Everyone instantly snapped their heads back to the Breadstix building, and gasped once they saw what was happening.

An utterly panicked woman was floating a few yards above the building, staring wildly around her and rolling around in the air. It seemed that she had been brought from the back of the building, and the Wolf was using his telekinesis superpower on her.

Santana didn't wait for someone to tell her what to do. She instantly let herself fall forward and floated upwards, pausing when she was at the same height as the woman, but much too far away to rescue her without being noticed. She looked around again, hoping that she'd be able to discover the Wolf in his hiding place, but to no avail. It was almost as if he wasn't there.

Santana forced herself to think calmly. Rash thoughts and impulsive actions were not welcome in this type of situation. Okay. She obviously had to get to the woman, who was still screaming at the top of her lungs and crying hysterically. But Santana wasn't foolish—she knew very well that the Wolf would act with whatever he was planning to do next as soon as she moved.

Suddenly, the woman's body slowly started floating away from the building, towards Santana, as if trying to tempt her to make the first move. The woman froze once realization hit her that she was now no longer above the roof, and that if she fell, she would hit the ground, which was about twenty feet below her. It probably wouldn't kill her, but it also wouldn't be the nicest experience, to put it mildly.

The scene stood motionless for about half a minute, everyone holding their breaths and waiting for all hell to break loose. Little did they know how true that phrase would become in mere seconds.

Suddenly, and with no warning, the woman's body was released from the telekinesis hold and she plummeted to the ground, headfirst. Santana immediately went into autopilot and rocketed to her, catching her at the last second when she was only five feet above the ground. She grasped her with both hands by the woman's arm, and winced when she heard a bone snap. The woman howled in pain, and Santana, again, cursed the fact that she didn't have super-strength.

She didn't have long to linger on that thought, however. As soon as she had put the woman down on the ground, she saw a heavy man being flown across the sky, heading straight towards the building across the street. Santana flew directly at him, like an arrow released from a bow, and was able to place herself between the man and the building that he was flying at. She placed her arms under his armpits, but very soon realized that she definitely did not have the strength to lift a grown man like him. She tried to remain steady as she sunk to the ground, landing heavily and making both her and the man fall to their knees.

The Wolf must've decided to catapult all of the hostages, because the next thing she knew, there was a small boy who couldn't be more than eight years old flying at an incredibly dangerous speed. Santana soared up to meet him, and wrapped both of her arms around his torso when she caught him. At least she could lift a small boy. But two small children? Without waiting for her to put the boy down, a small girl flew across the sky, in the opposite direction. Santana jetted to her, and caught her in her right arm while holding the boy in her left arm. Both of the kids were hysterical as she floated down to the ground, dropping them from her aching arms and turning her eyes back to the sky, waiting to see if there was another hostage.

Either there were no other hostages, or the Wolf had decided to give her a much-needed break. Still in the air, she panted heavily and rubbed her arms, keeping her eyes on the building in case another hostage came flying out.

As it happened, no more hostages came flying out, but a large black van sure did. Santana gaped at it, praying to God that she wasn't supposed to catch a giant van in her arms, too, when a hand shot out of it, dropped a paper note, and then sent the van flying in the opposite direction, away from her and the police. The cops began to shoot wildly at it in hopes of doing some damage, but the van must have been bulletproof or something, because the bullets did absolutely no damage to it. It just continued to fly on its way until it disappeared from Santana's view.

Santana sunk to the ground, utterly bewildered and in shock. This was definitely the most frightening and strangest thing that ever happened to her. She gazed around to see that many people were wearing the same facial expression as her.

There were some paramedics tending to the hostages, who all seemed too perplexed to speak. Santana just stood there, wide-eyed and motionless, not knowing if it was time to leave the scene or if the danger had not yet passed.

Finally, a detective approached her with a note in his hand, and Santana guessed that it was the note that was dropped from the window of the van. She took it and held it before her.

_Well played, Varied Bunting. I underestimated your courage and your willpower. This was fun, was it not? Let's play again._

The note was signed with a large W and a small sketch of a smiling wolf. _Let's play again_. This was not the last that they'd see of the Wolf.

* * *

Half an hour later, Santana was back at McKinley and in her civilian clothes. She was completely exhausted, but she didn't miss school unless she was on her deathbed, which was never. When she walked through the front doors, she found an empty hallway. Everybody was already in class.

She hurried to her Honors Molecular Genetics class, and took a deep breath before opening the door and entering. Naturally, everybody turned to look at her, and she blushed deeply and glanced at the teacher, Mr. Pines. The latter raised his eyebrows. "Late, Santana? That's something I've never witnessed before."

Santana bit her lip. "I—uh—had a family emergency," she lied, nodding once at him and making her way to her assigned seat. She heard a few snickers from the students, but for once, she was grateful for them. She'd rather her classmates laugh at her than someone suspect that she was Varied Bunting. Like all superheroes, Santana wished to keep her true identity hidden.

Santana suspected that they didn't learn anything all class, because the TV was switched on the local news channel and all of the students were talking excitedly among themselves about how cool it was when Varied Bunting caught two kids in her arms at the same time and how the Wolf had no chance when she was around. As nice as it was for her ego to hear all of these murmurs, Santana found herself silently disagreeing with their claims. The Wolf, she knew, was only getting started, and who knew what weapon he'd pull out next time, and how many people would stand between her and his gun?

She felt guilty. The only reason he was at Lima was because he wanted to challenge _her. _He didn't care how many innocent people were killed in his game. He was having fun. What did it matter who got hurt and who didn't?

When the bell rang, she lifted her backpack and shuffled out of the classroom. She was about to make her way to Spanish class when someone yanked her into the bathroom. All that Santana saw was a flash of blonde hair, and the next thing she knew, she was pressed against the closed door of a bathroom stall and being kissed ardently by a very zealous Brittany.

After a few moments, Santana had to break the unexpected kiss for lack of air, and she blinked repeatedly until her mind finally settled in its right place and she realized what was happening. Brittany was kissing her. At school. In a bathroom stall, but it was still at school nonetheless.

Brittany licked her lips and grasped her hand. "You were so amazing out there… We watched you on TV. The whole school did. Everybody's talking about you."

Santana let her lips stretch into a small smile as she lowered her eyes. There was a thought that had been bothering her for some time, and she felt like now was the right time to voice it. "Brittany…" she began, and glanced up uncertainly at her. She took in a deep breath. "Why do you like me?"

When Brittany didn't respond, Santana looked up again and saw that she seemed confused. She cleared her throat uneasily. "I mean, I'm awkward, I'm clumsy, I'm nerdy… Why do you like me?"

A gentle smile appeared on Brittany's face. "Because when you're awkward, you do this little thing with your nose. You scrunch it up at the top and you bite the inside of your cheek, and you look like you just tasted something very sour." She stroked Santana's hand with her thumb and waited until she looked up at her. "And when you're clumsy," she continued, "your face turns all red, and it's the oddest thing because people with darker skin like yours usually never blush. And when you're nerdy," she leaned forward, setting her forehead on Santana's, "when you and Sam talk to each other and have what I like to call nerdgasms, you get so excited and you spill all of this information about whatever it is you're talking about, and your face lights up more and more with every word, because being a nerd is what you love to do." She placed a soft peck on Santana's lips.

Santana sighed, not exasperatedly, but almost in relief, and looked into Brittany's eyes. "So, it's not…" She bit her lip. "I mean, it's not because I have a superpower?"

Brittany lifted her forehead from Santana's, but her smile grew wider. "No," she said firmly. "Your superpower is really cool, obviously, but I think there are much cooler things about you than the fact that you can fly."

Santana let a small, sad smile spread on her lips. "Then why are you ashamed of me?" she asked quietly, her eyes plastered to the toilet seat behind her girlfriend.

Brittany didn't answer, and Santana was too afraid to look up to see her facial expression. She hoped that she didn't just wreck their relationship with a simple question. Simple, but so very complex.

They stood like that for a few minutes, which felt like hours to Santana, completely silent, and Santana never once looked up at Brittany. She was too focused on pushing back the tears that welled in her eyes, and too scared that she would find Brittany's eyes hateful if she looked up.

When Brittany leaned in to kiss her, Santana was surprised to find that her girlfriend's face was damp with tears. "I'm sorry," Brittany whispered, her voice cracking. She swallowed and tried to steady her breathing, but the tears continued to stream down her face as if they had a mind of their own. "I'm not ashamed of you," she raised her swollen eyes to Santana. "You should be ashamed of me, if anything." She paused, trying to find her words. "I promise myself every time that I won't hurt you again, and then I do, and…" She shook her head and met Santana's eyes. "I won't hurt you again," she whispered. "I'm not ashamed of you or of our relationship."

Santana bit her lip and nodded, squeezing Brittany's hand in hers. She wiped the tears from Brittany's face with her free hand, kissed her gently, and smiled. If she ever had any doubts about Brittany, they were all gone. She had never seen her be so honest with anybody. Her love for Brittany had never blazed so brightly as it did now.

* * *

Santana was much more at peace by the time she reached her house later that day. It was a pretty good day, after all—she had saved the lives of four people, proved her ability as a hero, learned that her girlfriend really did love her just like she had always wished, and had a heated argument with Sam about who would win in a battle to the death—an Inferius from _Harry Potter_ or a necromorph from the video game _Dead Space_. Santana also pointed out that it technically wouldn't be a battle to the death, because both races were already dead to begin with. Yup, it was a good day.

When she arrived at home, she found both of her parents waiting for her in the living room shaking their heads at her. She dropped her backpack to the floor and raised her eyebrows.

"Welcome home, Santana," her mother began. "Or should I say, Varied Bunting." She cocked an eyebrow.

Santana froze, wide-eyed. How did they know that it was her under the costume? Did the mask not do good enough of a job concealing her face?

Her father chuckled and shook his head again. "Did you think that you can just randomly fly, and that you didn't inherit your ability from someone?"

Santana stared at him. "Oh." Her eyes jumped to her mother, then back to her father. "Wait, you can fly too, Dad?"

"Not me." He motioned at Maribel. "Your mom."

Santana's jaw dropped and she gawked at her mother. "_Mom?_"

Maribel smiled widely. "Why so surprised?" she teased.

Santana shook her head. Okay, this was a new idea to get used to. Her mom could fly, too. "Wait," she looked at Maribel again. "If you can fly, why aren't you a superhero?"

Maribel shrugged. "It wasn't for me, really. And I didn't want all of the attention. I just wanted a peaceful life."

"Oh," Santana plopped down on the couch, drawing circles around her knees with her fingers.

"We didn't take into account that you might be able to fly, too," her father explained. "But the moment we heard that there was a flying superhero saving the day, we knew it could only be one person." He smiled affectionately.

"Of course you'd want to use your power for the greater good," her mother laughed. "After reading all of those comic books? I bet you almost peed your pants when you found out you could fly."

Santana rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop her lips from stretching into a smirk. "Before or after I crashed into my bedpost?"

"You crashed into your bedpost?" her mother said through her laughter. "Oh, dear."

Santana leaned back into the couch, chuckling softly at the memory. Suddenly, the chuckle caught in her throat, and her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why can you fly?" she asked her mother.

"Oh, come on, Santana. You don't know after reading all those comic books?" Maribel arched an eyebrow once again.

Santana narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You're from Krypton?"

"Not from Krypton, no. I'm afraid that planet doesn't exist. But I am from another planet."

"So you're an alien."

"Sure."

"From another planet."

"Right."

"Are you a lizard under your human skin?"

"_What?_"

Santana stared at her. "Like Anna."

"Who's Anna?" Maribel gazed at her daughter incredulously.

"A Visitor. 'We are of peace. Always.' Crazy-ass lizard alien queen lady with human skin who wanted to destroy humanity and keep Earth as her breeding ground for her future army of human-reptilian hybrids," she explained, and sighed when she realized that her parents weren't following. "Never mind."

"Well, I have no idea who this Anna lady is, but I certainly don't want to destroy humanity," her mother assured her.

Santana nodded slowly. "So what planet are you from?"

Maribel glanced at her husband momentarily before answering. "It's called Illdenwan, and it's in a neighboring galaxy of the Milky Way, which we called Clode III."

Santana blinked, trying to wrap her mind around the idea that she was half alien. "So can everyone fly on this Illdenwan planet?"

"No," her mother shook her head. "That's why there's so much tension. The Illdenwanese break into two races—the Likors and the Lumlis. I, myself, am a Lumli, which is why I can fly. This Wolf fellow you dealt with today, he's a Likor, which is why he can make other things fly, but can't fly himself."

"Wait, the Wolf is from your planet, too?" Santana asked disbelievingly.

"Sure is," her mother nodded. "These differences between the Likors and the Lumlis have brought to countless wars, bloody genocides, and everlasting hatred. Which is why I left the planet the first chance I got."

"Are there a lot of Illdenwanese on Earth?" Santana inquired, genuinely curious about her mother's home planet. The more Maribel spoke of it, the cooler it became.

"No, not at all," she replied. "The problem with the Illdenwanese is that they're unbelievably arrogant. That's why we're constantly in war over there. Most of them wouldn't want to live on a planet that is already occupied by another intelligent race, another potential enemy."

"So why did you come here?" Santana leaned forward, getting more excited with every word that her mother uttered.

Maribel noticed her daughter's change of attitude, and smiled warmly. "Well, you know me, San. I'm a rebel. A hippie. I don't like war, and I don't care about being different from somebody else. Illdenwan just wasn't for me." Her smile turned mischievous. "Peace and love, man."

Santana snorted, and tried to imagine her mom in the sixties with long, straight hair, one of those braid hairband things, flashy clothes, and an excessive amount of sexual partners. She cringed as soon as that image came to her mind, because suddenly she was imagining her mom in an orgy, which was not a very pleasant image at all and certainly not one she wanted in her mind, so she tried desperately to think of something else. But, of course, whenever you try to not think about something, you keep thinking of it anyway, and suddenly everyone she knew was in an orgy together, Artie, Sam, Kurt, Brittany, her, her parents, and—_ew_. Santana shook her head wildly, completely oblivious to the fact that her parents were staring at her like she had lost her mind. Finally, she opened her eyes again and asked, "So why is the Wolf here?"

"I don't know," Maribel shrugged. "But I'm sure that he came here to Lima because he found out that there's a Lumli on Earth. It's personal for him."

"But I'm not even full Lumli…" Santana protested quietly. "Wait," she looked up at her parents again, "if you're an alien and you're a human, then how did you create me? Isn't that like a monkey trying to breed with a zebra? Am I a monkey-zebra?"

Her parents both snorted, and she decided that she wasn't a monkey-zebra, but a monkey-donkey. Maribel shook her head. "The reason I decided to come to Earth is because the Illdenwanese had done some research on human beings and discovered that genetically and biologically, they are very similar to us. I wanted to come to a place where I'd be able to mate with someone from another race. I thought being a rebel was super cool back then," she smirked.

Santana took a moment to ponder this. "So are you sure I'm not a lizard?" she asked again. "Because I've always felt like I need something warm beneath me, or I can't digest my food."

"You're not a lizard, Santana."

"Okay."

* * *

The next day on the way to school, Santana told Sam everything that her mother had told her the day before. Sam's jaw dropped further and further with every word she spoke, until Santana was sure that she could fit not only one fist in his mouth, but two. When she finished, Sam just stared at her for about a whole minute, and then finally said, "_Whoa_."

Santana grinned widely. "Right?"

Sam nodded enthusiastically. "Totally. So the Wolf is only here to settle some endless war that has been going on between the two races?"

"I guess, which is pretty annoying because he's playing games with innocent human lives. It's like we're playing wizard chess and his queen smashes my pawns, which are the people I have to save, in order to win some final battle that really, in the end, is only between the white king and the black king." She shook her head. "It's absurd."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. They walked in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts about aliens and planets and villains and superheroes. When they were almost at school, Sam spoke again. "Still pretty awesome that you're half alien, though."

Santana grinned proudly. "I asked my mom, she says I'm not a lizard."

Sam snorted, but when his lips stretched into a relieved smile, Santana realized that he was asking himself the same question just moments ago. She smirked victoriously.

Santana didn't see Brittany until lunchtime. She wasn't in their calculus class for some reason, and Santana, worried, texted her to see if she was okay. She never received an answer.

At lunch, she was seated at her usual table with Sam and Artie, talking excitedly about _The Hobbit_, which was due to come out later that year, and discussing all of her expectations from the movie. It was, after all, directed by Peter Jackson, who directed all three _Lord of the Rings_ movies, which were all flawless. She expected no less from the prequel.

All three of them were in complete shock when Brittany suddenly appeared and sat on the bench next to Santana. She smiled affectionately at Santana, but the latter could tell how anxious she was. The most popular girl in school had just sat down with the three most unpopular kids in school. She could almost physically feel herself being pushed down level by level in the social pyramid.

But she had made a promise, to herself, but most importantly, to Santana. Santana knew that Brittany had to face an extremely difficult decision—her or popularity. And she was so, so grateful that Brittany was choosing her.

Santana grasped her hand hesitantly, and when Brittany continued to smile and didn't pull away, she set their hands in her lap and whispered, "Thank you."

Brittany nodded, her smile fading for a brief moment but reappearing almost immediately after, and Santana could swear that she was hearing Brittany's heart beat madly in her chest. She wanted to distract her from the thought of everybody looking at them, so she said, "What do you have for lunch?"

"What?" It looked like Brittany had just been shaken back to reality. "Oh, um, nothing. I forgot to pack it."

"Oh," Santana glanced at her half-eaten turkey and cheese sandwich. "Here," she pushed it towards Brittany. "Have mine."

Brittany stared at it, and it was almost like she had trouble processing Santana's words. Santana felt horrible for making Brittany go through this, but she didn't regret it. Their relationship wouldn't have lasted otherwise, and she believed that in the end, their relationship is what really mattered.

She released her hold on Brittany's hand and ripped off a small piece of the sandwich, offering it to Brittany. She stared at it again, then shook her head, blinked a few times, and grabbed it. She forced herself to focus on something else besides her friends, who were seated a few tables behind her and surely gossiping heatedly at this very moment about this new revelation.

She really didn't care about the sandwich at all, she wasn't even hungry, but it was kind of nice to have Santana feed her baby bites like this. Sam and Artie still hadn't spoken a word, and, as a matter of fact, Brittany hadn't even looked at them, or at anyone other than Santana, because she feared that she wouldn't be able to take the critical faces of everyone else outside of their little bubble. She kept herself focused on Santana, and the way her full lips stretched into a shy smile, and the little dimple on her left cheek, and her nimble fingers as they gently tore off piece after piece of the sandwich. By the end of lunch, Brittany had already come to terms with losing her popularity, and to a decision that Santana Lopez, with her glasses and her sweaters and her nerdgasms, was totally worth it.

* * *

When Santana entered her house later that day, feeling like she'd been admitted to heaven for a short period of time, she found her dad in the living room surrounded by at least a dozen cardboard boxes. She walked to one of the boxes and peeked inside. "What is this?"

"Spare Taser air cartridge clips," he explained, fiddling with something in his hands.

Santana blinked in bewilderment. "Like, for a Taser gun?"

Her father nodded, and picked up a little paper that looked to be the instructions on how to use the Taser gun in his hands.

Santana glanced around again. "So… Why do we need enough spare Taser air cartridge clips to supply an entire police department…?"

Her father looked up at her. "Isn't it obvious? This is your new superhero weapon."

Santana stared at him, wide-eyed. "You want me to use a Taser gun when I'm trying to catch the bad guys?"

He nodded and arched an eyebrow. "Unless you want a real gun and you want to become an executioner?"

Santana shook her head immediately, stunned at the thought of killing other people, even if they were bad guys. But a Taser gun… "You know that I'm only gonna electrocute myself with that thing, right?"

Her father raised his eyebrows. "How did you perfect your flying ability, Santana?"

She shifted uneasily in her spot. "I practiced."

"Exactly," he smiled, and turned back to the instruction paper.

It turned out that using a Taser gun wasn't as hard and dangerous as it looked. Her Taser gun had a laser pointer on it, which helped a lot with the aiming. The spare cartridges also had clasps on the back, so she could attach them to her Varied Bunting belt without having to carry them in a bag or something. After a few shots with the Taser gun, Santana already got the hang of this whole thing and decided that her father was a genius for thinking of this. This way, she could still catch the bad guys without really doing any permanent damage. It was win-win, for her and for the bad guys. Well, except for the bad guys getting caught part, but who cares about the details, anyway?

Santana went to sleep with a confident mindset that night. Maybe now she'd really have a chance against the Wolf and his brutes.

* * *

Brittany received her first ever slushy facial the next day, as she walked to class after spending lunch with Santana again. She wasn't as hurt by the slushy itself as she was by the fact that it was someone she used to call her friend who tossed it in her face. Santana pulled her into the bathroom, and, with a wet paper towel, began to clean the slushy off of Brittany's face.

Brittany was quiet as Santana wiped her forehead, and then her cheeks. She just gazed at Santana with a look that Santana couldn't decipher. After a little while, she mumbled, "I can't believe you had to clean these things off of yourself almost every day because of me."

Santana lowered the paper towel for a moment, met Brittany's eyes, and shrugged. "You get used to it after a while," she said matter-of-factly.

Brittany shook her head. "It's just not right…"

Santana smiled softly to herself, and before she could stop herself, she leaned forward and licked a bit of slushy from the corner of Brittany's lips. She immediately blushed as she pulled back, and her face only reddened as Brittany's grin grew wide and she let out a chuckle. "So _that's_ why you wanted to clean me…" she teased, her spirits raised because of Santana's actions.

Santana turned her head to the side, a bashful smile on her face, and shoved Brittany playfully. The best part about having Brittany S. Pierce as a girlfriend was that she got to kiss those pink lips that she had been dreaming of for many years. Kiss them again and again, whenever she wanted.

A few hours later, when the final bell rang, Brittany and Santana left the school hand in hand, heading into town in search of a certain type of shirt that Brittany wanted to buy. They never got the chance to look for the shirt, however, because when they passed a small pizza parlor, they overheard on the television that the Wolf, at this very moment, was striking again, this time at one of the local banks. The police had confirmed that he and his men were heavily armed.

Brittany and Santana hurried behind a building where they would be unseen, and Brittany helped Santana put her superhero outfit into place. Her belt felt much heavier with the spare cartridges on it, but it was better to have them than to not. Finally, Santana pulled her mask over her face and looked at Brittany.

"I'm coming with you," Brittany said after a few seconds.

"No. It's too dangerous."

"_Please_," she implored, and looked at Santana with pleading eyes.

Santana sighed. "Fine, but you're going to be with the rest of the civilians—behind the police blockade."

"Okay," Brittany nodded quickly, and slipped her backpack on her back and Santana's backpack on her front. Santana turned around, crouched, and waited until Brittany climbed onto her back and locked her arms and legs around her tightly.

Santana flew as quickly as she could, straining as she soared over the last few blocks to the bank, because she was carrying not only herself, but also Brittany and two backpacks full of textbooks. Santana landed about a block away, gave Brittany a kiss goodbye, and flew back up into the sky. She heard a faint, "Good luck," before she rocketed through the remaining block and found herself in front of the bank.

Like before, there were police cars everywhere, and cops aiming their guns at the building. She heard a few people from the crowd of spectators call out her superhero name, but she paid no attention, and glided down to meet the very same detectives that had doubted her only mere days before.

This time, they weren't so skeptical. They gave her a quick breakdown of what was happening, that the Wolf himself was confirmed to be inside the bank, and that, again, there were civilians trapped inside with him. The police had live footage of what was happening in there, because the security room was situated in a different part of the building, which the criminals were not guarding. Apparently, the Wolf was waiting for her.

Well, this time, she was not willing to be a mere pawn in his game again. This time, she'd catch him off-guard, give him a taste of his own medicine.

The detectives showed her the blueprints of the building, and Santana saw that if she entered through the roof of the three-story structure, she'd be able to make her way to the second floor through the main stairwell, and if she walked down the hall to her right, she'd come to a back stairwell only used by employees, which, the detectives confirmed, was not being guarded by the fugitives at the lower level.

Santana nodded once and, with a determined face, took off. She flew around the building in circles, but getting higher with each loop. The point of this was to disorient whoever was looking at her from inside, namely the Wolf, and to make sure that he didn't know where she was going.

Finally, she silently landed on the roof. She opened the door to the stairwell, and let herself fall forward again once inside so that she could float down instead of walk, because walking made a lot more noise. Before she opened the door to the second floor, she wielded her Taser gun, slipping a cartridge into place so that she could use the gun if someone suddenly attacked her.

Very fortunately, the second floor seemed completely abandoned. The vault must have been on the first floor, and Santana was sure that the Wolf's men were emptying it at this very moment. She floated carefully down the hall until she reached the door of the back stairwell, and silently opened it and glided down to the first floor.

She took in a deep breath before slowly and cautiously pulling the door to the first floor open. She found herself in another hallway facing a wall, and she knew, from the blueprints, that on the other side of that wall was the main room where the Wolf was waiting for her. She drifted down the hall and turned a corner.

She immediately hid again behind the wall, shaking a bit, because there was a huge man standing around the corner with a giant gun. Thankfully, the man was turned away from her, and was completely oblivious to her presence.

Santana tightened her sweaty hands around the Taser gun, floated around the corner again, and shot the man in the back. He froze, then fell forward on his face as if she had just cast the _Petrificus Totalus _curse on him. She made sure that he was unable to move, and continued to glide down the hall.

She came upon two more armed men until she reached the entryway to the main room, and both were stunned before they even knew what hit them. With one last shaky breath, she peeked into the main room.

There were about half a dozen more armed men standing around looking tough, and around ten frightened civilians were seated on the floor on the far side of the room. And in the center of the room, with his arms crossed over his chest and a small gun dangling from his hand, stood the Wolf. The long-snouted wolf mask that covered his face was painted in brown and gray, and was showing its teeth as if it was snarling. He was wearing a simple black suit with a white button-down shirt and a silver tie. He looked to be about half the size of his men in width and shorter by at least five inches, and it seemed almost silly that strong thugs like them would follow his orders. Santana guessed that they were rewarded handsomely for their services, namely in large amounts of money.

Santana tried to calculate her chances of succeeding with her Taser gun against seven men with real guns. Naturally, they weren't very high. But she had an advantage—she could fly.

She decided that she should at least take down one man before revealing her location. Still mostly hidden by the wall leading to the entryway, she aimed her Taser gun at the nearest brute's back and pulled the trigger.

Without even waiting for him to fall to the ground, Santana ripped through the stale air of the building and was able to shoot two more before anyone even knew what happened. The advantage she started with was soon gone, however, because suddenly she was being shot at from all directions.

She rocketed around the room, making sure to stay in motion so that she'd be a harder target as she aimed her Taser gun at the men and shot them one by one while changing cartridges expertly. At one point, Santana heard a bullet fly right by her ear, but quickly countered the man's attack with her Taser gun, and he fell to the ground.

At last, it was just her and the Wolf. The latter hadn't even joined in the fight—he was still standing with his arms crossed over his chest, and Santana felt like he was sneering at her beneath his mask.

"Well, well, well," he began, his voice somewhat muffled by the mask. "I underestimated you once again, Varied Bunting. You're much tougher than you look."

Santana's hand was still clutching the Taser gun, and she was ready to defend herself if he attacked, although it didn't look like he would be doing any of that anytime soon. He tapped his fingers on his gun in a slow rhythm, waiting for her to respond.

"Why don't you take off your mask, Wolf?" she said, and in some dark corner of her mind, noted that she was being extraordinarily courageous today.

"Why don't you take off yours?" he countered, cocking his head slightly to the right.

Santana glowered at him. "Let them go," she motioned at the people sitting on the floor next to the wall.

The Wolf let a low chuckle, which sounded more like a growl than anything else, escape his throat. He measured her for a moment, shaking his head lightly, and then said, "Make me."

Before Santana could pull the trigger on the Taser gun that she was aiming at him, he shot a bullet over her shoulder, and Santana knew that he missed on purpose. He was playing games with her, as always.

When Santana was about to pull the trigger again, the Taser gun suddenly flew out of her hands and to the other side of the room, smashing on the wall and falling to the floor in a pile of broken parts. Santana's eyes widened, and before she had any time to think about it, she was rocketing headfirst at the Wolf.

It seemed like he wasn't expecting this, either, and was not quick enough to point his gun at her. She crashed into him and the gun fell to the side, forgotten, as she pushed him back with all of the force that she could muster.

Out of nowhere, a chair flew at her head. She ducked just in time for it to pass over her. She glared down at the Wolf and with as much strength as she had, lifted him off of the ground by his suit and flew out the automatic front doors.

Her plan was to drop him right in front of the cops and let them deal with him, but naturally, the Wolf would never make it that easy. Large objects were flying at her from all directions now, and she ducked and dodged, all the while holding onto the Wolf. She didn't even have time to pay attention to the gasps and shouting from the crowd below them—there was a police car flying up at her from the ground, and she flew up higher to avoid collision with it.

It was when she was about sixty feet high in the air that the Wolf had finally stopped making objects fly at her. She glanced down, noticing that her knuckles were white from the strain of lifting him, and was about to tell him to give up when he said, "Drop me, Varied Bunting. Come on. Kill me."

She stared incredulously at him, and tried to float down a bit, but as soon as she did, a news reporter's camera came flying at her. "It'd be so easy to just let me go now, wouldn't it? Don't you want to show the world how much of a hero you are by murdering a villain?"

She knew that he was using reverse psychology on her, but her hands and arms and back ached beyond belief, and she didn't know how much longer she'd be able to hold on. As much as she despised the man before her, Santana did not want to become a murderer.

She glared down at him, and then brought up her knee to the snout of his mask, a blow strong enough to send the mask plummeting down to the ground at full speed. She didn't know who was more shocked at this action—her or the Wolf.

Thank God that she could double task, because she used his surprise to her advantage and sunk down to the ground as she gaped at his face. She understood now why he wore a mask.

It looked like he had been attacked by some sort of very dangerous animal. Deep scars covered his chin and his right cheek, leading up to his right eye, which was blue, in contrast to his left, which was green. His lower lip must have been torn in the animal attack, because its right tip was bulky and swollen, and barely even looked like part of his mouth. His facial expression, like hers, was completely stunned.

Finally, she landed on the ground, but instead of landing by the police, she accidentally landed in the middle of the crowd of onlookers. Frightened, they all retreated to form a large circle around them while the police scrambled to get their forces to this spot.

The Wolf still looked to be in shock, but there was something else in his eyes now. Santana couldn't tell if it was deep hatred or fiery anger, or both. His hand twitched in a weird sort of move, and suddenly the sky above them was filled with the police officers' guns, which were being flown to the top of the bank building, except for one, which had flown straight into his hand.

He aimed it at her, his face contorted in fury, and for a moment nothing happened. Everybody held their breaths, and Santana was too stunned by the sea of guns to act.

And suddenly, there was blonde hair in front of her, and long arms were stretched widely to shield her body. Santana was jolted back into reality, and realized that Brittany had just put herself between this psychopath's gun and her.

"Brittany, don't—" She tried to pull on her arm, but her girlfriend wouldn't budge. When Santana, panicked, tried to walk around her, Brittany simply moved her body to the right, blocking her way. Santana thought that she must've gone completely mad.

The Wolf was no longer radiating rage, but looked extremely intrigued by this encounter. He lowered the gun, his eyes jumping between Brittany and Santana, until a little scheming smile formed on his face. Before anyone could stop him, he bolted into a nearby police car and made it soar out of there as if it weighed absolutely nothing.

When Santana arrived at home, exhausted and aching all over, she found that she had a new text message from an unknown number. She opened it worriedly, thinking that she knew what she'd find inside.

_You have taken something precious of mine. Now I will take something precious of yours._

And the next morning, it was all over the news that Brittany Susan Pierce, a blonde eighteen-year-old who attended the William McKinley High School in Lima, Ohio, and was described by her teachers and peers as top athlete and model student, had been kidnapped.


	3. The Damsel in Distress

When Santana went into this whole superhero business, she was prepared for anything but _this_. Sure, she had learned from reading countless comic books that a villain's job was to find the superhero's Kryptonite, his one ultimate weakness, but she never dreamt that it would develop into a situation like this. She had so many weaknesses, really—so why, why did he have to strike the one chord that would buckle her completely?

There were no words to describe how furious she was with herself for letting Brittany come with her to the bank. If she had only stood firm on her ground and never let Brittany tag along, then the Wolf would've never found the way to make Varied Bunting stay in her bed all day and cry herself to sleep because she had no idea how to find the girl that she's loved for so many years. Image after image rolled through her mind, of what the Wolf and his thugs could be doing to Brittany right now, if they were beating her or if she was just tied up in a dark room and left there to soak in her fear. Either way, Brittany must be feeling very lonely right now, and Santana hated herself for putting her girlfriend in a position of such danger.

She was laying in her bed now, her face stuffed in her pillow and her eyes sore from crying. The FBI agents on the case were no closer to finding Brittany, and she, of course, being the lousy superhero that she is, was of absolutely no help. She had flown across all of Lima several times in search of the black van that the Wolf had brought to Breadstix, but her searches were to no avail. It had been three days since Brittany disappeared and a note with her name and the Wolf's signature was delivered to Santana, and nobody knew what to do.

Santana felt her phone vibrate, so she blindly reached to her right until her hand closed around it. She turned her head away from the pillow, stared at the screen for a few seconds, and opened the text.

_Sam [Tuesday, 4:33 PM]: Manen naly__ë__?_

Santana smiled appreciatively at her phone. Only Sam would know that sending her a text in Elvish would raise her mood. She translated the text in her head—_How are you?_, and quickly typed in a response.

_Im maer. Le hannon._

Santana read over her text, making sure that it actually meant what she wanted it to—_I'm fine. Thank you. _After she was sure that the words were correct, she pressed Send and dropped back down into the pillows.

It wasn't long before she was looking at her phone again and searching for the number of the FBI agent who was assigned to work with her, as Varied Bunting. She cleared her throat, selected the number, and brought the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" the gentle voice of Special Agent Natalie Biggs answered at the other end of the line.

"Hi." Santana's eyes darted around nervously. "It's Varied Bunting," she said quietly.

"Hi," Natalie responded, her tone caring and motherly. "We're still working on the phone number that you gave us. No leads have come up so far." There was a short pause. "I'm sorry."

Santana closed her eyes, trying to delay the stream of tears that she knew was bound to come. "Thank you," she said, her voice cracking against her will. She ended the call, a few tears already rolling down her cheeks, and hugged her pillow close to her, imagining that it was Brittany and that she was safe here in her arms.

* * *

"Can anyone tell me what the third derivative of cosine of 5x plus sine of 8x is?" Mrs. Hagberg looked at the class expectantly. Naturally, all of the students were too lazy to work out the problem by themselves and preferred to just copy what she wrote on the board, so Mrs. Hagberg turned to the one person who she knew wouldn't have any problem with solving this equation—Santana Lopez.

"Santana?" she tried hopefully.

Santana had spent the entire class staring groggily at a certain point on her desk. The worksheet that Mrs. Hagberg handed out earlier lay forgotten in front of her, clean and unmarked by the intricate calculations that Santana would've usually filled it with. Santana didn't hear Mrs. Hagberg call her name; she was lost once again in her imaginations of what was being done to Brittany while she was sitting in a classroom and doing nothing to help. She prayed that the Wolf was only trying to hurt her by kidnapping Brittany, and that he didn't want to hurt Brittany as well.

When she didn't respond, the entire class turned their heads to her, eyebrows raised because Santana Lopez was the last person to ignore a teacher when she was being addressed. Santana saw the shifts of her classmates out of the corner of her eye and gazed up, startled, to find everybody in the room staring at her. She looked around, wondering if she had maybe said one of her horrifying thoughts aloud, until Mrs. Hagberg finally repeated, "Do you know what the third derivative of cosine of 5x plus sine of 8x is?"

Santana blinked to try to make her brain work. It was absurd that she was here, answering math questions, while Brittany was still nowhere to be found. "It's 125 sine of 5x minus 512 cosine of 8x," she said, quietly but certainly.

Mrs. Hagberg nodded and flashed her a smile—a rare occurrence, because the facial expression that she usually wore was a frustrated scowl. "That is correct," she said as she turned to the whiteboard and began to work out the equation.

"How does she do that?" Santana heard a whisper from the back of the room.

Before she had the chance to turn around and see who was inquiring about her academic abilities, the door of the classroom opened and a short freshman walked in and whispered inaudibly to Mrs. Hagberg. Mrs. Hagberg raised her eyebrows and turned to look straight at Santana. "Principal Figgins wants to see you, Santana."

Santana gaped at her in shock. Principal Figgins wanted to see _her_? For what reason? Was she in trouble?

Silently, she picked up her backpack, grabbed the worksheet on the desk, and made her way across the classroom, the eyes of every student in the room on her as she exited through the door.

On her way to Principal Figgins's office, Santana tried to think of every possible scenario to explain her being called to the principal's office. She had never broken any school rules other than the times she had left the school to fulfill her superhero duties, and, well, she couldn't really be blamed for that. She didn't know how she'd explain these absences; she'd have to reveal that she's Varied Bunting or she'd get detention. The other scenario playing in her mind had to do with Brittany, and had two outcomes—one where Brittany was found alive, and one where she was found dead. The latter hurt so much to think about that Santana almost ran the remaining way to the office, no longer able to take this terrible anticipation.

As it turned out, Principal Figgins was not the only one waiting for her in his office. When she entered the room, she saw none other than Special Agent Natalie Biggs and her partner for this case, Special Agent Reed Jonston. Her eyes jumped between the three for a few seconds, her mouth hanging a little open, until Natalie finally stood and walked forward, offering Santana her hand. "Hi," she smiled as Santana placed her hand in hers, "I'm Natalie Biggs, and this is my partner, Reed Jonston." Santana tried to make it seem like she really was meeting them for the first time, but Natalie was looking at her in a way that made this task very difficult to perform. Natalie winked secretly at her, to which Santana responded with a very obvious gawk, and continued, "We work for the FBI, and we're here to talk to you about your friend, Brittany Pierce."

"More than a friend, according to the whispers of the students in the halls," Principal Figgins chimed in. Santana couldn't stop the glare that she sent his way. He was much too involved in the students' rumors and gossip for her liking.

"Oh?" Natalie raised her eyebrows, and shifted her eyes back to Santana. Santana dropped her gaze to the floor and nodded, her cheeks burning. She still hadn't gotten used to this whole being out of the closet deal.

They stood awkwardly like that for a few moments, until Reed finally spoke up. "Well, then," he began. "I'm sure you're just as desperate as we are to find Brittany."

Santana raised her gaze to him and nodded quickly. She looked at Natalie again, hopeful that maybe they had some new leads, but Natalie shook her head apologetically. "We haven't found her yet, Santana. We're doing our best with the information that we've acquired, which isn't much."

Santana looked away, disappointed. Brittany had been gone for four days now, and she and the FBI were no closer to locating her and saving her from the hands of those callous brutes.

"We'd like to ask you some questions about Brittany," Natalie said, her tone, once again, kind and motherly. "If you could sit down, please."

Natalie and Reed asked her some questions about when and where she last saw Brittany, and if Brittany had acted oddly or out of the ordinary. Santana tried her best to give as much information as she could, but even she knew that her answers wouldn't aid in the search for Brittany. The Wolf was smarter than to leave evidence behind him that could lead to his possible imprisonment.

When they ran out of questions to ask, Natalie and Reed thanked Santana for her help, and Natalie wrote down her number in case they needed to contact her again. Santana panicked a little when she was asked for her number, because they already had her number as Varied Bunting, but Natalie once again gave her a subtle look of confirmation that they were indeed sharing a secret, and went about taking her number without suspicion.

Reed moved on to question Principal Figgins, and Natalie pulled Santana outside to the empty hallway. When they were alone, she turned to Santana and said, "I'm sure you've already realized that I know who you are."

Santana nodded, her eyes uncertain. Natalie smiled warmly. "Don't worry, this secret stays between you and me. I contacted your cell phone provider and found out that Varied Bunting's number belongs to a girl named Santana Lopez. When we came here and were told that Brittany is friends with this Santana Lopez, I knew that this was no coincidence." She surveyed Santana, who was biting her lip nervously. "Nobody else knows of this, Santana, and I don't mean to tell them. You have a right to privacy."

Santana nodded again, her hands fidgeting anxiously with her sweater. "There's no new information?"

Natalie shook her head. "No, I'm sorry." She put a caring hand on Santana's shoulder. "You'd be the first to know if something came up."

"Thank you." Santana tried her best to hide her disappointment. She thought that as upsetting as it was to still be no closer to finding Brittany, at least the agents hadn't come to tell her that they found her girlfriend's dead body in some lake floating among some very oblivious fish.

* * *

Santana was lying in her bed, too exhausted to even cry, when she heard a soft knock on the door. She raised her head a little, stared at the door for a moment, and said, "Come in."

Maribel stepped into the room, a worried look in her eyes. She smiled sadly when she saw Santana lying face down on the bed and walked over to her. "How are you doing?" she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed and running her fingers through her daughter's hair.

Santana shrugged and put her head back down, knowing that her mother didn't really need an answer and could sense that she wasn't okay. Maribel sighed deeply and stroked Santana's cheek. "I'd like to talk to you about this…Wolf guy."

Santana raised her eyebrows and pushed herself up so that she was sitting, facing her mother. "What do you want to know?"

Maribel licked her lips in thought. "You took his mask off, right? What did he look like under his wolf mask?"

"He…" Santana willed her mind to remember the exact details of his face. It had all happened so quickly and she was in such panic that certain elements of the scene escaped her memory. "He had scars all over his face…" Santana absentmindedly touched her chin and cheek, where she had seen his scars. "And his lip was torn," she added, her fingers now grazing her lips.

"And his eyes?" Maribel prompted, gazing at Santana in a way that made Santana think that she already knew the answer. "What color were his eyes, Santana?"

Santana closed her eyes and tried to remember. She saw the scene before her, the crowd of onlookers down in the street, the police officers and their weapons… "They were two different colors," she said confidently. "The right was blue and the left green."

Maribel shook her head and bit her lip. "Why?" Santana asked curiously. "Do you know him?"

Maribel's eyes widened, and she quickly said, "No! No, it's very common for Likors to have two different colored eyes." She looked away.

Santana eyed her suspiciously. She had a strong feeling that her mom wasn't being completely honest with her. "Really?" she asked skeptically.

Maribel peeked up at her. "Okay, I know _of_ him," she admitted reluctantly.

Santana leaned forward, her eyes round with astonishment. "Really? Was he famous in Illdenwan?"

"He…" She glanced sideways and licked her lips again. "Yes, I guess you could say that."

"Was he responsible for a genocide? Has he killed millions? Is he the evil leader of the Likors?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Maribel shook her head. "He was a researcher in Earth biology." She paused for a moment. "A genius, really. He made a lot of trips here to Earth, obtaining samples and then bringing them home for further examination. He was very talented and successful, and he brought in most of the research on Earth that the Illdenwanese had done."

"So what happened?" Santana asked, intrigued.

"He traveled to Earth once more to study some canidae animals. Dogs, coyotes, foxes…and wolves." She looked at the wall behind Santana, as if she was remembering something that was forgotten a long time ago. "It was when he was studying wolves that he was attacked by one, and, well…after that, everything changed." She nodded sorrowfully to herself. "He lost his mind. He began to research weapons that could be used against humans, as if they were the ones responsible for the scars on his face."

Santana stared at her and blinked once. "Seriously?" she asked flatly. Maribel raised her eyebrows. "He's a mad scientist?"

Maribel chuckled, gazing at her daughter with a smile that was well reflected in her eyes. "Just like your comic books, huh?"

Santana nodded and rested her chin on her knees, which were curled up to her body. "So he wasn't always like this?" she asked.

"No," Maribel sighed. "Before this happened, actually, he was known for wanting peace between the Likors and the Lumlis. His Illdenwanese name was Nukk Loness. His human name is Hugo Harrington."

"What's your Illdenwanese name?" Santana asked curiously.

"Joori Tyms," Maribel smiled.

"Joori?" Santana's eyes widened. "I thought that was just a pet name Dad calls you."

"No, it's my real name," she admitted and stroked Santana's hair again. Santana hugged her knees and remembered how her superheroes always defeated the villains. Just like the villains had found their Achilles' heel, the superheroes always struck back with the villains' own weaknesses. And now that she knew a little more about the Wolf, she thought that maybe, just maybe, she had found his real weakness.

* * *

"Okay, wait, so you think that in order to defeat the Wolf, we need…a wolf?" Sam cocked his head to one side, clearly puzzled. "But the Wolf _is_ a wolf, or at least his mask is a wolf, so how would getting a wolf defeat the Wolf?"

"Okay, first of all, please stop saying 'wolf.'" Santana shot him an exasperated glance. He smirked in response. "Don't you get it? The reason he went mad is because a wolf attacked him. It changed his thought process, his rationality, his entire life. Don't you think that bringing back that memory, of the most terrible moment of his life, would cripple him for just enough time for us to overpower him?"

"Oh, I get it," Sam began to nod enthusiastically, "he uses the wolf character to seem like he's one with the wolves, when really, he's super scared of them. But no one knows that, because everyone assumes that he loves wolves and that's why he uses a mask of one." He grasped his backpack straps the way he always did when he was excited. "It's like how Batman is a bat but he's actually afraid of bats, or at least was."

"Exactly! Henri Ducard would have taught the Wolf one hell of a lesson about facing his fears," Santana replied eagerly. "Well, except for the fact that he turned out to be a Ra's Al Ghul in the end and he's completely crazy."

"Right," Sam nodded thoughtfully. "But how do we know that the Wolf hasn't already faced his fears? I mean, what if he's already forced himself to be among wolves, and conquered the fear?"

"I just have this feeling…" Santana looked around at the front lawns that they were passing without really seeing them. "He's armored himself with over a dozen burly guys with huge guns, he tries to never make direct contact with his enemies… I don't think that he'd be brave enough to face his fears." She glanced at Sam, who looked to be considering her words. "Think about it. Bruce Wayne, who we both know is extremely brave, wasn't willing to face his fears until he was forced to. Bruce Wayne fights by himself, without the aid of some brawny thugs, and yet even he had to be pressured into facing the bats and his guilt."

"It makes sense," Sam agreed as they turned a corner and the school became visible. "I just hope that you're right."

It wasn't until lunchtime that Santana was in the girls' bathroom and she received a text from another unknown number. She quickly washed her hands and exited the bathroom into the busy hallway, terrified that this text might be an announcement of Brittany's imminent death or excruciating torture.

_Unknown Number [Thursday, 12:23 PM]: I see your searches have brought you no answers. This is a quarrel that must be settled between you and I, Varied Bunting, which is why I will allow you to retrieve your lost one in exchange for something else—my pride, and your freedom. I will not rest until I've overpowered your despicable superhero play, and until I've proven to this world that my kind will always be superior to yours. If you're game, Varied Bunting, here is your clue: 'On the third day of a Fool's month, the sun will shine on a Leering marble statue for precisely thirty minutes. If you are not present within this specific time frame on this specific day at this specific location, your missing will be truly lost, and your fate in the hands of the cruel civilians whom you so wish to protect.' Now, a warning: come alone, without the help of petty humans or their useless gadgets of communication. If you do not obey the rules of the game, Varied Bunting, neither will I. Play wisely._

Santana gaped at her phone, frozen in place in the middle of the hallway and completely oblivious to the annoyed students who were forced to walk around her. _A Fool's month… Leering marble statue…_ What did all of this mean?

Determinedly, Santana set off for the cafeteria in hopes of finding Sam. Some students gave her apologetic smiles along the way, which had been happening often lately because of Brittany's disappearance. People always seemed to be apologizing, even if they weren't responsible.

When she arrived at the cafeteria, she couldn't, to her great disappointment, find Sam. She made her way to their regular table to find Artie seated there with some guys from the Video Game Club, talking excitedly about a new _Assassin's Creed_ game that was supposed to be released later that year. Santana stood silently in front of the table for a few moments, until Artie finally noticed her and cocked an eyebrow.

"I…" Her eyes darted between the other video gamers, whom she did not want to involve in her superhero business. She tried to think of a way to say this as inconspicuously as possible. "Can you tell my best _mellon _that a hero is in need of him, please?"

"Your best melon?" Artie stared at her like she was insane. "_What?_"

"Not melon, you idiot, _mellon_. Elvish for 'friend,'" she rolled her eyes.

"Why can't you just speak English like a normal person?"

"Just, ugh, if you see Sam, tell him I need him."

She shot one last worried glance at the other gamers and then made her way out of the cafeteria. There was a feeling inside her that she couldn't quite pinpoint—extreme anxiety mixed with incredible fear, and maybe just a tiny little bit of hope that she'd finally be able to rescue Brittany from that damned madman.

* * *

Santana reluctantly went to class after lunch, feeling that she's completely wasting her precious time instead of figuring out the Wolf's riddle. It wasn't until after school had ended that Sam was finally able to catch her.

"Sorry, I spilled a bunch of Kool-Aid on myself during Spanish class, and my mom had to bring me a new pair of pants," he apologized as he walked to her across the hallway. "You were looking for me?"

Without answering, she opened the text and held out her phone. He grasped it and read the text, his eyes getting wider and wider with each word. When he was finally finished, he looked up at her, completely dumbfounded. "Do you have any idea what this means?"

"I have some ideas, but I don't know if they're right." She pulled him into the nearest empty classroom, and they sat down at a table, facing each other. "Okay, so, _the third day of a Fool's month_. A fool's month should be April, right? I mean, April Fools'. So I think it's the third day of April."

"That makes sense," Sam rubbed his jeans uncertainly. "But April is like five weeks away."

"I know," Santana replied sorrowfully. "He's going to keep Brittany for more than a month. If only I knew where he was keeping her… I'd kick his ass so hard that even Ares would look like a fluffy teddy bear next to me."

The mere thought of leaving Brittany to stay in the Wolf's custody for over a month made her want to crawl up in bed again and never come out. But she had a clue now—this was not the time for emotions to take over and for giving up. This was a time for taking action.

"So what do you think this statue is?" Sam looked at the text again, his thumb between his teeth.

"I don't know," Santana admitted. "And I'm also wondering why _Leering_ is capitalized."

"Maybe it's a name? Like in _National Treasure_, how _Silence _was capitalized in the riddle from the meerschaum pipe, because it was a name—Silence Dogood. Maybe _Leering_ is somebody's name."

"But whose?" Santana rubbed her eyes anxiously. "I've never heard of anybody named Leering."

"I don't know," Sam leaned back in his chair and bit his lip. "And what about the marble part? Is it a statue of marbles or is it a statue made of marble?"

"I think it's a statue made of marble…" Santana said slowly. "I don't think that there's a statue of marbles anywhere around here. Or anywhere at all. I mean, who would make a statue of marbles?"

"That's true," Sam agreed.

They sat in silence for a couple minutes, each trying to figure out what the clue could possibly mean. Santana rested her head in her hands and stared intently at the table. _Leering_ could mean that the statue seemed to be leering, but then why would it be capitalized? Unless Sam was right, and it really was somebody's name, but Santana had an odd feeling that it wasn't. It could be… Well, she'd have to ask her mother that. "Come on, I think I have an idea, but I need my mom for that," she beckoned Sam, who followed her out of the school and into the street.

To Santana's great relief, her mother was home when they arrived at the house. She greeted them in the living room, but instantly sensed that something significant had happened to her daughter. "What's wrong, mi cielo?"

Santana hesitated for a few seconds, and then handed her mother her phone. Maribel read the text, her eyes worried and uncertain. Finally, she looked back up at Santana. "Do you think you know when and where this is?"

"We're pretty sure that it's on April 3rd, because of April Fools' Day," Santana explained as she and Sam took a seat on the couch. "That's all we've figured out."

Maribel nodded, deep in thought, and looked back at the text. "I wanted to ask you something," Santana began, and Maribel looked up at her again, her eyebrows raised in question. "Is _leering_ a word in Illdenwanese?"

Maribel thought for a moment, and then her face lit up as if the answer to the clue had hit her. "Yes! It means 'angel.' If it's a statue of an angel and it's made of marble—"

"Oh!" Sam and Santana beamed. "The Gethsemani Cemetery!"

"Yes," Maribel answered with a relieved smile. Hope ignited in Santana like a fire in a gas station. Now that she knew when and where this exchange would occur, she felt much closer to finally rescuing Brittany. The only problem was that April, like Sam had said, was really five weeks away. She wondered why the Wolf would wait five weeks if all that he wanted was to overpower her. Maybe it was some sort of attack technique—by the end of those five weeks, Santana would probably be so distraught about Brittany's absence that she wouldn't be up for the fight. Well, she wasn't going to let that happen. Not if Varied Bunting had anything to say about it.

"That's kinda messed up," Sam rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. "Like, what if he makes bodies fly out of the ground? What if he brings on a zombie apocalypse?"

"I would rather have a zombie apocalypse _and_ Brittany than not have Brittany at all," Santana reasoned, but Sam still looked unsure. "Look, if worst comes to worst, we'll summon allies from Illdenwan to defeat the zombies, okay?"

Sam nodded, and seemed to be comforted by that thought. Santana turned back to her mom, who looked to be trying very hard not to laugh at the fact that a zombie apocalypse was a completely legitimate possibility to them.

"Wait," Sam grabbed Santana's phone again, searching the text for something. "_The sun will shine on a Leering marble statue for precisely thirty minutes. _Isn't the angel statue in the middle of the cemetery? How can the sun only shine on it for thirty minutes?"

Santana leaned her chin into the palm of her hand, her bottom lip between her teeth. "It's not like there are a bunch of trees around it to hide it from the sun…" she thought out loud. "Or maybe he means that it'll be cloudy that day, but unless he also has weather-forecasting superpowers, I don't think he'd be able to tell that. Or his superpower is so strong that he could make the clouds move by himself. But that would mean that he's got some sort of very powerful hydrokinetic ability to control water, like a waterbender, and if this is true, then what if he creates a tsunami? Oh, God, what if he can move asteroids with his Likor power and he flies one into Earth, and we'll all become extinct just like the dinosaurs, and—"

"Santana!" her mother exclaimed, snapping Santana out of her panicked rambling. "He doesn't have any hydro-gefilte fish ability, and his Likor power isn't nearly strong enough to move asteroids or create tsunamis. Even flying a van must have been a serious strain for him."

"So what's going to cast a shadow on the statue the entire day except for thirty minutes?" Santana asked, gripping her hair as if about to pull it out.

"Uhh—the building of the cemetery office?" Maribel suggested, her eyebrows slightly raised as if this was very obvious.

"Oh." Santana rubbed her head. "Right."

"The building is tall and it wraps around the angel statue in a way that shields it from the sun for most of the day. It should be sometime midday, when the sun is directly above the statue, that it won't be in the shadows," Maribel explained.

"I'm going to my grandma's house on Saturday," Sam began. "It's right next to the Gethsemani Cemetery, so I could check when the sun shines on the angel statue."

"Okay," Santana nodded, her worries of tsunamis and asteroids slowly dissolving and hope building up in her again. "Everything is settled except for one thing—the Wolf said to come alone, but I have no weapon that I can use effectively against him."

"You're not going alone," her mom said immediately.

"Mom—"

"Out of the question! I'm not going to sit back while he kills you! You're going to call the FBI, and believe me, they've dealt with situations like this before," Maribel stated firmly.

"But he said that if I don't obey the rules, he won't either, and that could mean Brittany won't come out alive. I can't let that happen," Santana desperately tried to reason.

"Santana, if you go alone, both you and Brittany will be killed. We both know that you're not strong enough to overpower him with no backup."

"Fine," Santana crossed her arms over her chest. "It doesn't matter anyway, because I still don't have a weapon that can defeat him. If only I could get my hands on some wolves."

"Wolves?" Maribel asked confusedly.

"Yeah, wolves are the key to defeating him," Santana muttered and looked away, the hope that she felt just moments ago waning.

When Santana looked back at her mom, she was surprised to see her facial expression calculating. She looked up at the ceiling, as if deep in thought, and finally said, "Wait here, I think I might have something that'll help you."

She quickly stood on her feet and disappeared up the stairs. Santana cocked an eyebrow and shared a puzzled look with Sam, wondering what her mother thought could aid in defeating the Wolf. She tried to think of a possible way to get around contacting the FBI, whom she thought would screw up everything, but she knew that if her mother had anything to say about it, the FBI would be the first to know of the clue that the Wolf had sent her. Some part of her knew that her mom was right, and that the Wolf had most likely set up a trap or ambush for her, but a much louder and more prominent part of her told her that if she didn't obey the Wolf's rules, Brittany's life would be on the line. It was a tough call—risk Brittany's life by coming alone, or risk her life even more by coming with backup? Either way, the thought of Brittany getting caught in the middle of all of this brought her both colossal anxiety and extreme anger.

"To be honest, that angel kinda scares me," Sam said suddenly. Santana stared at him like he was deranged. "Well, doesn't it remind you of the Weeping Angels? _Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. They are fast, faster than you can believe! Don't turn you back, don't look away, and_—"

"STOP!" Santana cupped her hand around his mouth, punching his arm in the process. "This is complicated enough as is without getting the Weeping Angels involved! Shut up!"

Maribel came down the stairs with a large black case in her hands, pausing a bit when she noticed that Santana was practically holding Sam in a headlock. Santana slowly freed him, her full attention now on this black case that she'd never seen before in her life. "What is it?"

Without answering, Maribel walked to the living room table and laid the black case on it, punching in the combination to the lock. Sam and Santana instantly stood up and hurried around the table, eager to see what was inside.

Santana sort of expected the case to open and a golden light to beam from inside, but what she saw instead was _so _much cooler. "_Whoa_," she and Sam said appreciatively in unison.

Inside the black case was one of the most awesome weapons that she had ever seen. It was made of what looked like stainless steel (although Santana couldn't be sure of that—this weapon didn't look like anything made on Earth, so for all she knew, it could've been made of some unknown Illdenwanese metal), and was painted with blue streaks across the wide barrel. The end of it was an open ring made of metal as well with tiny outlets on it that looked like some sort of magical energy creators. It was by far the coolest weapon that she had ever seen, and that's including Sora's Oblivion keyblade and Commander Shepard's M-490 Blackstorm.

"What does it do?" Santana asked in awe.

"It creates incredibly real holograms of anything that it's programmed to—watch," Maribel lifted the weapon out of its case, typed something in the tiny keyboard with strange figures on it that was on the back of the gun, and then pulled the trigger.

The outlets in the open metal ring lit up with what looked like green electricity. The currents molded together, there was a high-pitched sound that got louder by the second, and the next thing Santana knew, she and Sam were screaming at the top of their lungs and jumping behind the couch because there was a giant freaking dragon in the middle of her living room.

Santana could hear her mother's laughter ring through the room, but what was much more worrying was the dragon's roar, which quickly swallowed up the laughter. It seemed like the entire house was about to collapse from that earsplitting roar, and Santana, panicked, tried to think of any possible way to escape from the house without being burned to the bone or eaten. A stream of fire shot above the couch, eliminating all possible escape routes, and Sam and Santana covered their heads, wholly terrified.

"It's a hologram, sillies!" her mother called, and suddenly the sounds of the dragon were gone and everything was quiet again. Her heart beating furiously in her chest, Santana slowly peeked above the couch to see that the dragon had disappeared, and instead she was met with her mother's amused smile.

"That…" she breathed, "was…not…_funny_."

"Oh, come on, Santana, you know you've always wanted to see a dragon!" Maribel teased, setting down the weapon on the table.

"I'd like to see a dragon when Brittany is sitting by my side and I'm warned of it first," Santana muttered, irritated, and made her way back to the front of the couch. "Now's hardly the time."

"So we'd be able to create wolves from that weapon?" Sam asked, still somewhat rattled as well.

"Mhmm," Maribel hummed. "As you've seen, the holograms seem very real, so I doubt that he would suspect that they aren't."

"Brilliant," Sam said quietly. Santana's heart was still beating way too quickly for her to appreciate and be in awe of the weapon's ability.

Maribel took the weapons into her hands again, walked to the couch on which Sam and Santana were seated, and sat between them. "This is how you spell 'wolf' in Illdenwanese," she demonstrated on the weapon, pushing six buttons that had the thin, curly markings of Illdenwanese on them. Sam and Santana looked carefully, memorizing the figures and the path that Maribel's finger made. "Once you have it typed in, all you have to do is pull the trigger, and it'll appear."

"And if we want more than one to be made?" Santana inquired, much more calm now than she was a few moments ago.

"Pull the trigger as many times as you need, and with each pull another wolf will appear."

"What about when we want the wolves to disappear?" Sam asked.

"Push the trigger in the opposite direction, and they're all gone," Maribel explained.

She allowed Santana to take the weapon into her hands and examine it. "It really is brilliant," Santana agreed. "I mean, this will get the job done without putting any lives in danger by bringing in real untamed wolves."

"Exactly," Maribel nodded. She fell quiet, so after Santana finished examining the weapon, she peeked up at her. Maribel seemed to be deep in thought. She had been like this quite often lately. Santana presumed that her mother was either revisiting forgotten memories from Illdenwan, or that she was as desperate as Santana to find Brittany. Either way, she had been acting odd lately—but so had Santana, so she couldn't be one to judge.

Finally, Maribel said, "Promise me, Santana, that you won't leave without me and without backup. I cannot begin to stress how crucial this is."

Santana looked down at the weapon again. Having her mother, who could also fly, at the scene would certainly be helpful. And as much as she was reluctant to admit it, she knew that the FBI would have much better strategies on how to approach a situation like this than she did. Maybe her mom was right. The Wolf had written it himself—_Play wisely. _The only way to make sure that Brittany came out of this alive was to play wisely, and going in alone with absolutely no help would not be the wise choice to make. "Okay," Santana accorded. "I promise."

* * *

_Let's not make this mission a failed one like that time we were Luke and Leia cosplays and fell prisoners to that ass Jabba the Hutt cosplay. I will never regain my pride._

_Sam [Saturday, 10:03 AM]: I will never forget how he put that collar around your neck and dragged you around with him until you swore your devotion. Hahahaha_

_You know what? Leia kills Jabba in the end._

_Sam [Saturday, 10:05 AM]: Well, then, you're obviously not Leia._

_Oh, shut up and get to the cemetery._

Santana sunk back into the couch in her Varied Bunting outfit, dropping her phone to the side. She decided that the first thing she'd do after finding out when the sun shines on the angel statue was fly out to meet Special Agent Natalie Biggs from the FBI and fill her in on everything that's happened. She was still somewhat hesitant, and the possibility of losing Brittany was ever present and terrifying, but the little angel and devil on her shoulders came to an agreement that she had absolutely no chance against the Wolf by herself. When it came down to it, Brittany's life was the most important thing on this mission, and Santana felt like she'd have a much greater chance of keeping Brittany safe if she had reinforcement.

Her father walked into the living room, his glasses low on his nose as he flipped through the morning paper. He glanced up. "Dressed for work, are we?"

Santana didn't answer. Her father dropped the newspaper on a recliner and made his way to the couch that she was sitting on. "How are you?" he asked as he enveloped her into a hug.

Santana buried her face in his shirt, torn between wanting to cry and elaborately explaining all of her problems. She shrugged. "I've dreamed about having Brittany as my girlfriend since first grade. It was always the one unachievable goal I had, and I always knew it wouldn't happen."

"But it did," he stroked her hair soothingly.

She bit her lip. She wanted to express the guilt that she felt to him, but she couldn't see a way of doing that without indirectly incriminating herself. But then again, it was her dad, and he wouldn't judge her as she judges herself. "It's my fault. All of it."

Her father tightened his arms around her, drawing her in closer. "How do you mean?"

"If Brittany weren't my girlfriend, she would be safe in her room right now," Santana explained. "She's in danger because of me, because the Wolf wants to get to me and she's my Kryptonite. It's all my fault."

"But she would still be mean to you if things hadn't played out the way they did," he replied, resting his chin on her head.

Santana fell quiet. Here was the biggest question, the test—would she rather have never gotten the chance to be with Brittany but for Brittany to be safe or would she rather have been selfish and take Brittany for herself with all of the consequences? What was more important to her, Brittany's happiness or her own? She didn't even need to think for one second to know the answer to that. "I'd take all of the bullying from her if it meant that she'd always be safe," Santana said, and knew that her words were the complete truth.

It took nearly four hours for Sam to finally text her. She had been lying on the couch with her head in her father's lap while he read a book. She couldn't bring herself to do anything—ever since she had gotten the text from the Wolf, she had been even more restless and anxious than she was before. She didn't want to wait until April to rescue Brittany. She couldn't stand the thought of leaving her there even one more day, but even the FBI didn't have any clue as to the Wolf's whereabouts. Her mood constantly changed between utter hopelessness and blazing fury. When she was infuriated, she often considered obtaining a gun so that she could blow twenty holes into the Wolf for kidnapping Brittany. When she became calmer, however, she'd always know that she shouldn't get down to the Wolf's level. As enraged as she was about the entire situation, killing the Wolf was not the answer to her troubles.

When she heard her phone buzz, she sprung up to reach for it, startling her father. She quickly swiped her finger across the screen to unlock the phone and opened the text.

_Sam [Saturday, 1:44 PM]: The sun shines on the angel from 1:13-1:43 pm. Also, I blinked and even tried to turn around a couple times, but the angel didn't move, so we're safe._

Santana rolled her eyes at the phone, but quickly typed in a response.

_Thanks. Piece of advice, though, when you walk away from the angel, don't turn your back to it. It could have been pretending to be a regular statue._

_Sam [Saturday, 1:45 PM]: I hate you._

Santana smirked at her phone briefly before exiting the text and hitting the green phone button to look for Natalie's number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Natalie, it's Santana…Varied Bunting." Santana leaned back into the couch, glancing at her father momentarily to find him gazing curiously at her.

"Hi Santana," Natalie said, her voice a bit downcast. "I'm afraid we don't have any new information."

"I do, though," Santana replied, biting the skin around her thumb nervously. She was having second thoughts about involving the FBI.

"You do?" Natalie sounded surprised.

"Yeah," Santana said hesitantly. She took in a deep breath, reminding herself that going on this mission alone would most likely get Brittany killed, and that she couldn't let that happen. "Meet me in ten minutes on the roof of the Federal Office Building?"

"I will," Natalie said immediately. Santana ended the call, her bottom lip between her teeth and her knee bouncing up and down.

Santana felt her father's hand on her back, and she turned to him. "You're doing the right thing," he said softly.

Santana nodded slowly, absentmindedly. Some part of her knew that her father was right, but another part of her, the part that likes to worry about everything, felt like she was making a big mistake. "I have to go," she said finally, letting her father give her one last reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before marching out of the house and falling forward to take flight.

It took Santana only about five minutes to reach the Federal Office Building, so she sat on the edge of the building and looked down at the people bustling down the street, each in a hurry to get somewhere and with his or her own worries. It seemed odd to think that there were other worries outside of Brittany's kidnapping—but every person always seemed to believe that his worries were of the most importance.

Santana heard a door open behind her, so she turned around. Natalie smiled at her as she made her way across the roof. "So you've got new information?" she began.

Santana held out her phone, which was opened to the text. She fidgeted nervously with her cape as Natalie read, a crease between her eyebrows becoming deeper and deeper as she read on.

Finally, Natalie looked up at Santana. "Let me just begin by telling you that you did the right thing by not listening to his 'rules' and contacting me."

Santana nodded uncertainly. Natalie went on, "The Wolf will not know that we're there, I assure you. Not until Brittany is presented and I give the signal for my team to move in." She surveyed Santana, who was chewing on her nail. "She'll be safe, Santana. The situation is in good hands."

Santana nodded again, more to herself than to Natalie. "We've figured out what the text means," she said, gazing up at Natalie again. "It'll be on April 3rd from 1:13 to 1:43 PM at the Gethsemani Cemetery."

"You're sure of this?" Natalie asked, glancing down at the text again.

"Positive," Santana answered confidently.

"That means we've got a little over a month to prepare for this operation," Natalie said thoughtfully. "Come on, we'll notify my ASAC and begin the preparations."

Santana stayed at the field office the entire day, mostly watching as Natalie assembled a team to work on this case and to analyze the text further. They questioned Santana about her findings, and seemed to be convinced by her answers. By the time Santana left at around eight at night, she felt a lot more confident that she had indeed made the right choice by involving the FBI. They were professional and well prepared for these kinds of situations, just like Santana's mom and dad had said. She fell asleep quickly that night, comforted by the thought that she was one step closer to rescuing Brittany.

* * *

"Is the series from one to infinity of natural log of n over n convergent or divergent? Anyone?" Mrs. Hagberg looked expectantly at Santana, knowing that no one else would answer or even know how to answer her question.

Santana looked up, unsurprised by the fact that Mrs. Hagberg was staring directly at her. "Divergent," she said quietly.

"Good," Mrs. Hagberg nodded. "How do you know this?"

"By the Comparison Test, if you compare the natural log of n over n to one over n. The original sum is greater than one over n, and since one over n is the harmonic series, it is divergent, and therefore we can infer that the natural log of n over n is divergent as well."

"Very good!" Mrs. Hagberg exclaimed and turned back to the board. Santana sunk back into her seat and returned to doodling the Wolf in her notebook, each doodle portraying a different way in which she wished to end his life.

Santana felt her phone vibrate in her pocket repeatedly, so she pulled it out and looked at it under her desk to see that her mother was calling her. She let it buzz and made a mental note to call her when the class was over.

About ten seconds after it was finished buzzing, the phone began to buzz again. Santana peeked under her desk. It was her mom. What was so urgent that she'd call her in the middle of class?

Santana slipped the phone back into her pocket and raised her hand to ask to go to the bathroom. Once she was out of the room, she pulled out her phone again and dialed her mother back.

She brought the phone to her ear, only to pull it back when she heard her mother shouting hysterically at the other end of the line. "Mom? What—"

"GET TO THE CEMETERY!" she screeched, breathing heavily as if she was sprinting.

"The cemetery? Why? I don't need to be there until April 3rd—"

"IT'S TODAY!" Maribel yelled, entirely panicked. "_A Fool's month_ is not April, it's March! 'Fool' means 'to march' in Illdenwanese! It's today, it's right now, Santana, get there!"

Santana looked at her watch. March 3rd, 1:21 PM. She had only twenty-two minutes to get to the cemetery.

She didn't put her superhero attire on, she didn't notify anyone of her leaving, she didn't even take her backpack with her—Santana let herself fall forward and rocketed down the hall and out the front doors at full speed, soaring through the sky in the direction of the Gethsemani Cemetery with one thought and one thought only on her mind: Brittany.

She had never flown so fast in her life. She cursed the wind for fighting against her, she cursed drag forces and gravity and Newton's laws, she cursed the birds that she had to fly around because they were too stupid to move out of her way. It was as if the world was fighting against her, throwing every possible obstacle her way to keep her from getting to Brittany on time. She was met with tall buildings that she could swear she'd never seen before, a helicopter that appeared out of absolutely nowhere, and monstrous winds that made her eyes water heavily, blurring her vision and therefore handicapping her. At one point she didn't know whether the tears were flowing because of the wind or on their own—she'd never felt more terrified and distraught than she did now, with the knowledge that if she didn't get to the cemetery on time, she'd lose Brittany for good.

When she was already halfway across Lima, Santana realized that she was going in with no backup, no weapon, and no help. All she had was herself and her flying power, and who knows what kinds of weapons the Wolf would present in their fight. Flying back to her house to get the Illdenwanese weapon was out of the question—by the time she'd get to the cemetery, the Wolf and Brittany would both be long gone. Her mother wasn't at home, from what she'd understood, and her father was at work. That really only left one person who could bring the weapon to her.

Without hindering her flight, she pulled her phone out of her pocket again and quickly dialed Sam. She prayed that he'd excuse himself from class and answer, and she hoped that he'd be able to hear her through all of the noise of the wind if he did pick up.

After about ten rings, Santana finally heard Sam's worried voice. "Hello?"

"Sam, you have to get the weapon and come to the cemetery," she shouted into the phone.

"What? Santana? I can't hear you!" Sam shouted back.

Santana halted in place, making her lose her balance momentarily, but ending the terrible noise from the wind. "You have to get the weapon and meet me at the cemetery," she repeated quickly.

"Wait, why—"

"It's March 3rd, not April 3rd, I'll explain it to you later if I come out of this alive, but right now I need you to leave whatever you're doing, get to my house, and bring the weapon to the cemetery. My backpack's still in Mrs. Hagberg's class—my keys are in the front pocket. Go!" She ended the call and looked at her watch again. 1:27 PM. She only had sixteen minutes left. Panicked, she directed herself forward again, springing back into flight towards the cemetery.

She wanted to call Natalie, she wanted to have reinforcement, but she knew that with so little time to prepare, the FBI would not be able to help in this matter. It'd be as the Wolf had planned it all along—him against her with no interference by who he deemed petty humans.

It took her another seven minutes to reach the cemetery. When she finally saw the white graves, she barreled toward the cemetery office, knowing that the marble statue of the angel was placed right behind it.

She landed clumsily on top of the cemetery office building, breathing heavily and crouching down so that she wouldn't be seen. She quietly made her way across the roof and to the other side, where she dropped to her knees and peeked above the edge, looking for any signs of the Wolf, or, more importantly, Brittany.

The angel statue stood tall under the warm sun, a large marble cross situated behind it, casting a shadow on the angel's face. In some miniscule part of her mind Santana remembered the Weeping Angels, but that thought was quickly pushed aside by the worrisome fact that as far as she could see, there was nobody here.

Santana's always hated cemeteries—she always felt like they were creepy, like being among the dead would cast a curse on her own life, like the dead were not in peace in their places below the ground. All of these things seemed extremely heightened today; it was quiet—_too_ quiet.

Had she missed the time interval? She checked her watch again. Six minutes left. The Wolf wasn't one to bail out early. He wouldn't give up his game so easily. So where on earth were they?

She guessed that the Wolf, just like her, was hiding and waiting for her to come out first. Those were the rules of the battle, after all: let your enemy emerge from hiding first and then attack him from the back. It was a flawless battle technique—all that was left to be determined is who makes the brave move first, and who attacks whom from the back.

Santana laid out the possibilities before her. She could wait until Sam arrived with the weapon, but it would surely take him twenty minutes if not more, and frankly, she couldn't afford that amount of time. Not when Brittany's life was on the line. Another option was to sneak around the building and try to catch the Wolf off-guard, but that would take ten minutes in and of itself, and she couldn't afford that amount of time either, what with the five minutes that she had left in the time interval. The only other option she could see, to her great dismay, was to reveal her location and let the Wolf attack first.

With every instinct screaming at her to do the opposite of what she was about to, Santana slowly straightened up and let herself fall forward. Her eyes darting in all directions, she cautiously floated off of the roof and lowered herself until she was a mere five feet aboveground. She held her breath, anticipating an ambush any second.

What she heard instead was ten times—no, a _hundred_ times—worse. Instead of the gunshots that she was expecting to hear, Santana heard a soft sob, which she knew could only belong to one person. She snapped around in the air, trying to sense the direction from which the sob was coming, but she was met everywhere with aged trees and brick walls and white tombstones, none of which provided any clue as to Brittany's whereabouts. The sob grew louder, but Santana still couldn't figure out which direction it was coming from. She twirled around, her eyes flying over everything around her, looking for a flash of blond hair or the bared teeth of the Wolf's mask, anything that would indicate their location, but to no avail.

The next thing happened so quickly that in a few years, looking back, Santana wouldn't remember exactly what had occurred. All she would remember is that suddenly things were flying at her from all directions, except for one thing, or, more specifically, one body, which was rocketing across the sky in the opposite direction. Santana didn't have to be told twice that that body was Brittany's. She projected through the air, slightly faster than Brittany's body was moving, but still not fast enough to catch up. Something hit her in the head, and she became momentarily disoriented, but quickly recovered and continued to soar toward Brittany, who was screaming at the top of her lungs.

She realized, a little too late, that they were flying straight at another statue in the cemetery, a sort of white obelisk, behind which was a giant tree. Even if they were able to dodge the obelisk, they'd still hit the tree, but it didn't look like Brittany was about to dodge either one of those.

Santana willed her body to move the fastest it had ever moved, and after a few seconds of strenuous flying, she was able to wrap her arms around Brittany's waist and hug her close. The problem was that unlike the time at Breadstix, the Wolf didn't seem to want to let go of his victim's body, and even though Santana was holding onto Brittany, they were still both flying straight at the obelisk at a dangerous speed, the distance between the cold marble and them closing by the second.

Santana pulled as hard as she could on Brittany's waist, and Brittany grasped onto her arms as if to help, but it seemed that the Wolf's superpower was more powerful than both of them together, and all Santana could manage to do was slow them down a little. When she looked up again, the obelisk was twenty feet in front of them. Without thinking about the consequences, Santana did the first thing that seemed rational—she turned their bodies around so that her back was flying toward the obelisk and Brittany would not endure the blow.

They crashed into the obelisk, Santana's head making a worrying clunk as it bounced off of the marble, and collapsed to the ground in a heap of loose limbs. Santana found herself unable to move her body, her vision darkening and all of her strength escaping. All she could register was that it felt like someone was repeatedly pounding a hammer on her head, and that her hand was loosely grasping onto Brittany's. Then everything went black.

* * *

"Well, well, looks like someone forgot her mask at home."

The voice was quiet, distant, as if she was hearing it from miles away. She felt incredibly nauseous and couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. Her body was shaking, almost in a feverish way. It didn't feel like someone was pounding a hammer on her head anymore—it felt like there was a hammer pounding several nails into her skull at the same time. She could feel two arms wrapped around her protectively, and somewhere in her mind it occurred to her that Brittany was all right, well enough to be holding her. That thought comforted her.

"Please, she's got a concussion," she heard Brittany say, but her voice also sounded very distant even though Brittany was mere inches above her. "Please, you've got to have some compassion. She needs an ambulance."

"It is rather inconvenient," she heard the Wolf say. "I had been hoping to defeat her in battle, but I presume this defeat will have to suffice."

"What's wrong with you?" Brittany sounded angry. "It's one thing to lock me up in a room for a week, but she needs hospital care, and if she doesn't get it soon, this might cost her her life."

"Well, it'd just be an alternate situation that bears an identical outcome to the one that I had imagined," he replied with a cold chuckle.

Santana didn't know if she was imagining it, or if Brittany was actually growling above her. She was feeling a bit better now, and was able to open her eyes halfway, although the sunlight was quick to heighten her nausea again. She shivered involuntarily, and Brittany tightened her arms around her and held her closer.

Santana's eyes slowly came into focus, but every time she tried to open them further, she felt like she was about to vomit, and she closed them again. "Please…" Brittany begged.

"Do you not understand that your whining is meaningless? I've achieved my goal, which was to overpower your useless partner, and letting her die a slow death would only be the cherry to top this marvelous situation. Your begging goes to waste."

If it were any other situation, Santana might have advised him not to get on Brittany's bad side, because getting on Brittany S. Pierce's bad side was one of the worst and most frightening things she'd ever experienced. As it happened, Santana was barely conscious and the Wolf had the upper hand, so neither the advice nor the expected outcome of making Brittany S. Pierce angry came to be.

Santana didn't know how long she was lying there in Brittany's arms, or what Brittany and the Wolf were doing during this time. She couldn't see any escape from this situation—not when she was unable to use her superpower and fly them out of there. Brittany could lift her and run away, but she wouldn't get very far until the Wolf would use his power on her again and bring her right back to where she was. Santana might have been able to come up with more clever escape routes if she were able to think clearly, but she wasn't, and so she continued to lay limply with her head buried in Brittany's chest and feeling as if she was about to puke her guts out.

"Santana?" she heard someone call from a distance. "Santana!" The voice was getting closer, and she realized that it was her mother. Her mother was here. It was going to be okay.

She opened her eyes as much as she could, and the first thing she saw was the Wolf. She had expected him to fight her mom as he would've fought her, because a Lumli was a Lumli and she would be just as much of an enemy to him, but the Wolf seemed to be frozen. Santana couldn't see his facial expression because he was wearing his mask, but through her haze, she sensed that he was either too perplexed to act or too mortified to move. Either way, her mother was able to fly down directly to her with no interference from him. "What's happened?" she asked Brittany.

Brittany explained to her how the Wolf had flown them straight into the obelisk, and how Santana's head was hit against it, and that she had a concussion. Santana could see a crease growing between her mother's eyebrows, first worried and then angry. When Brittany was finished, Maribel clenched her jaw closed and turned to the Wolf, her eyes shooting daggers.

"Why don't you take off this idiotic mask so we can speak face to face, Nukk?" she said bitterly, and even Santana, through her concussion, could remember how much she hated the few times when her mother directed that tone of voice to her.

"Joori—"

"Take off that stupid mask, Nukk, before I kick it off of your face. You of all people should know not to mess with me when I'm angry."

It took Santana a few moments to understand that something was off. He of all people? And he knew her name? Didn't her mother say that she knew _of_ him, not knew him _personally_?

The Wolf didn't take off his mask, and Santana saw his hands ball up into fists. "You're the one who deserted me, Joori, you have no right—"

"I have _no right_?" Maribel screeched. "You tried to kill my daughter and you dare to tell me I have no right?"

"I didn't know she was your daughter!"

"Oh, and that's supposed to make me feel better, is it? You think I would've let this happen if this were some other Lumli? You are so much better than this, Nukk. You are so much better than to go down to the level of Illdenwan with their stupid discrimination and racism. Or at least you used to be, you're obviously not anymore." Santana couldn't see her facial expression from this angle, but she could imagine how her mom was giving him that narrow-eyed look she gives people she truly despises, the look that makes people cower down despite the fact that Maribel isn't very intimidating.

"Maybe I wouldn't have so much resentment for Lumlis if you hadn't turned against me," the Wolf said, seemingly through gritted teeth.

"Don't turn this on me, Nukk. We both know very well what happened. You developed an irrational hatred for humans because a non-intelligent creature from their planet attacked you, and I was disapproving, because I wanted to build an alliance with the humans. That's why we broke off, and that's why we'll never get along again."

"You mated with a human?" he asked in disgust.

"Yes, I mated with a human, and this mating brought us the best child we could've ever hoped for. This same child that you've been trying to kill. This same child that I'm going to fly to a hospital right now before she goes out on me, because I _love_ her. _Love_, Nukk. A concept you haven't been able to grasp for many years." Maribel turned to Santana and bent over her, checking her pupils for evenness.

"And what will happen with me?" the Wolf asked uncertainly.

"You?" Maribel turned to him. "You'll sit in jail for a very long time."

"You'd let me rot in _human_ jail?"

"That's exactly where you deserve to rot, Nukk," her mother shot back.

"Never," he stepped back, his head snapping between Maribel, Santana, and Brittany. "I never saw myself hurting you, Joori, but you leave me no choice." He made a circular motion with his hands, and dozens of rocks and pebbles rose from the ground and assembled around him.

"You wouldn't—" Maribel began.

"Oh, I would," he cut her off, cocking his hands back as if to ready them to shoot forward, therefore making all of the stones shoot straight at the three of them.

Santana wasn't really sure what happened next—she thought that she might've fainted because of her combined fear and weakness, but she was able to gather a few things, one of which was the fact that there were suddenly very loud barks all around that seemed too violent to belong to dogs. She heard Brittany gasp in fright, and she hugged Santana to her as close as she could, leaning down and burying her face in Santana's hair.

She heard a few screams, coming from a man, and then a shout from her mother, "Grab his hands, Sam, grab his hands!" After that she couldn't remember anything, and she lost consciousness with the faint thought that Brittany was right here, alive, next to her, and that the mission that she had so feared and anticipated had been successfully accomplished.

* * *

A few hours later, she had woken up in a white hospital room and came to learn that the Wolf was in custody and everyone was safe. When she asked what had made the Wolf drop the stones, which was the last thing that she remembered, Brittany explained to her how Sam showed up with a pack of wolves, and how the wolves scared the Wolf enough to make him drop the rocks, and how Sam had jumped on him and clutched his hands in a way that wouldn't allow him to use his superpower. She had a giant smile plastered on her face as Brittany explained this, making a mental note to tell Sam that he's the best sidekick any superhero could ever hope for. Well, maybe she could promote him to a sub-superhero rank, because he was so damn good. He did save the day, after all, and only superheroes can save the day.

A month later, the story of the Wolf had already become a tall tale, with different versions floating around, some of which were utterly ludicrous—Santana had heard one girl tell her friend that the Wolf transformed into a real wolf but then the other wolves overpowered him (this didn't even make any sense), and she'd heard a freshman kid tell his girlfriend that Brittany was kept as a sex slave for the entire week and a half she was gone, when in fact the Wolf had kept her in a secluded room and fed her two small meals a day with a sufficient amount of water, and actually hadn't abused her at all, unless you considered completely ignoring her existence a form of abuse. When Brittany told this to Santana and she wasn't convinced, she assured her that the worst thing about being in the Wolf's custody for a week and a half was the unbelievable amount of boredom that she had felt after her fear had waned. This made Santana feel a little better, but she still thought that the Wolf should sit in jail for the rest of his life whether he had hurt her physically or not.

It turned out that Maribel knew so much about the Wolf because she was an Earth biology researcher just like him, and they had worked very closely on projects together. Santana asked her if there had ever been anything romantic between them, and her mother thoughtfully answered that there probably would have been if he hadn't lost his mind, and if he hadn't created a medicine that stopped him from aging at the age of twenty-two, which was just plain weird. She was quick to say, however, that the one good outcome of him losing his mind was her falling in love with Santana's father when she moved to Earth, and having the most amazing daughter that she could ever dream to have.

The Wolf was given life imprisonment for his first-degree murder of the secretary at the Lima City Council, along with some other shorter sentences for kidnapping and holding hostages. Lima was back to being the uneventful and boring city that it is, and everything was set back in its rightful place.

As for Brittany and Santana, the entire Wolf story brought them impossibly close to each other and made Brittany completely forget that she had ever cared about popularity, and remember that she really only cared about being with Santana and making Santana happy. And Santana, well… She was just a shy little superhero with black-rimmed glasses, sweaters, and khakis, who also happened to have gotten the girl of her dreams. No big deal.

On a warm spring day in the middle of April, Brittany and Santana were lying, facing each other, on Brittany's bed, their hands woven together and their legs tangled, murmuring things that made each other smile and basking in their love and the happiness that they brought to each other.

"You know what I've always wanted? What my biggest dream has ever been?" Santana asked.

"What?" Brittany smiled, placing a soft kiss on her nose.

Santana bit her lip uncertainly, even though she already knew what Brittany's answer would be. "To go to prom with you."

"Oh," Brittany's smile grew into a grin. "Well, all you had to do is ask."

Santana smiled coyly, glancing down at their hands. "I know." She was quiet for a little bit, images of the two of them in prom dresses dancing together rolling through her mind, each one making her happier than the previous.

Suddenly, another thought struck her, and she almost giggled at herself for it. "Do you think that Mercedes would agree to go to prom with Sam?"

Brittany raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Mercedes _Jones_?"

"Yeah," Santana laughed. "Sam's got a huge crush on her."

"Well," Brittany looked up thoughtfully. "She'd never admit to it, but Mercedes has a soft side for nerds, kinda like how I would've never admitted to that either a couple months ago. So, yeah, I think he's got a fair chance."

"I mean, he did save our lives and all," Santana reasoned. "He deserves some kind of reward for his abilities."

"Very true," Brittany agreed, squeezing Santana's hands in hers. "I guess all we need now is to test your abilities."

"_My_ abilities?" Santana said incredulously. "I'm Varied freaking Bunting—"

"Well, Varied Bunting, I've got a riddle that will truly test your abilities," Brittany's smile turned mischievous.

"Is that right?" Santana cocked an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing at her lips.

"Mhmm," Brittany pulled a folded paper out of her pocket and handed it to Santana with a playful shove. Santana unfolded the paper and read what was written.

_On your journey, you will find two hills, between which lies a deep valley. Walk across the valley, and you will come upon a wishing well. Proceed around the wishing well, and you will find yourself standing before a small bush. Behind the bush is what you're looking for, and where you'll find a most pleasant home for years to come._

"Two hills, valley, wishing well, bush… I don't get—oh. _Oh_." Santana's eyes widened.

"Oh," Brittany smirked, and pulled her into a kiss that Santana could never have dreamed to be happier to receive.

* * *

**A/N: I'm pretty sure that this is going to be the last chapter, but…I don't know, we'll see. :)**

**P.S. If you understand the last riddle, you get ten brownie points. ;)**


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